Port Charles Christmas Carol
by suerum
Summary: Jason comes back to the penthouse in a bad mood on Christmas Eve but he has no idea what the night has in store for him...
1. Christmas Eve

A/N: Obviously this is derived from the great Charles Dickens classic Christmas tale. Interestingly enough, as I continued to immerse myself in writing this, I discovered that Jason Morgan was a prime subject for this timeless story of despair, redemption and hope. If anyone needs to have a night like this, it's Jason! As usual, I don't have any rights to GH or its characters. Also, I believe Mr. Dickens would forgive my imitation as he was a pragmatic man of letters who wrote a wonderfully resonant human story which has been reinvented over and over again for more than a century and a half. Anyway, I know full well who is the master between the two of us and it isn't me!

Christmas Eve

Jason grumbled under his breath as he got off the elevator and headed for the front door of the penthouse. As soon as he opened that door he was going to slam it shut and neither leave the penthouse himself nor admit anyone into it for the next twenty four hours. 'Well, maybe Spinelli,' he thought to himself, grudgingly acknowledging that his roommate lived here also and therefore ought to have the right to egress and ingress. He opened the door and stepped into the living room where the subject of his recent thoughts was sprawled across the couch with a bowl of popcorn in his lap watching some old black and white movie on TV.

"Stone Cold," he said, his greeting lacking its usual animation as it had ever since his and Maxie's split last month, somewhere around Thanksgiving. That meant the kid had been moping around the place for over a month now. He was more underfoot than usual, always looking at Jason with some undefined expression of need that made Jason uncomfortable as he snapped at him to go find something useful to do.

Tonight Jason was even in less of a mood than usual to tolerate his hangdog attitude. He wasn't exactly in a great temper himself and what precisely did the kid think he could do about it anyway? Anyone could tell it had always just been a matter of time before his relationship with Maxie imploded. Sure, he was furious with the chit of a girl but that didn't necessarily translate into his being a kinder, gentler Stone Cold toward Spinelli. After all, the hacker had awarded him the nickname, didn't he get all the implications contained therein?

"Why don't you come and watch 'A Christmas Carol' with the Jackal," Spinelli shyly asked him. "It is the most acclaimed version of the classic tale with Alastair Sim portraying an inimitable characterization of the crotchety Ebenezer Scrooge. It is still early in the film, the ghost of Christmas Past has but arrived."

Jason snorted irritably. "Christmas! Hah! It's a holiday meant for little kids and even then they overdose on sugar highs and get too many presents and always end up playing with the boxes instead of the actual toys. I'm going to bed." He was stomping toward the stairs after flinging his leather jacket carelessly toward the desk chair. He didn't even bother to pick it up from the floor where it had descended with a soft sigh of liberation after being relieved of the unpleasant duty of covering Jason's hunched, tense shoulders.

A forlornly uttered "Merry Christmas, Stone Cold," floated up the stairwell behind him but Jason didn't hear it.

He was too busy muttering to himself about how much he hated this time of year. "It might be okay if it was actually just three days-Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's but no they draw it all out for a month and of a half of sheer hell. People run around grinning like idiots and acting like total strangers are their best friends." He had reached his bedroom and flinging open the door stormed into the room while still itemizing his grievances. "It's all just an endless round of parties, presents, food, and people getting drunk and caroling. Seriously, who the hell goes caroling in 2009?"

A few minutes later Jason was in the bathroom furiously brushing his teeth. He scowled at his image in the mirror, the foaming toothpaste and glaring look in his eyes making him appear like some crazed rabies victim. He spit out into the sink and continued grumbling as he wiped his mouth. "Carly wanting me to be all cheerful and full of…what the hell did she call it-Yuletide spirit-for God's sake! Ten months out of the year she's a sensible woman. She knows I don't do crowds that I don't celebrate things. Then the holidays hit and she turns into a crazy person! Her house looks like Christmas exploded. Tinsel, breakable things everywhere, gingerbread houses and the whole place smells like cinnamon and eggnog. Eggnog…doesn't she know that's a heart attack waiting to happen? Anyway, if the clogged arteries don't get you the salmonella might as well."

He had returned to his bedroom and was currently sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in a soft pair of flannel pants and a ragged t-shirt. His irate monologue continued unabated, people who thought Jason couldn't string two words together would be astounded at his impromptu diatribe. "She's got Jax and Sonny. They _love_ this crap. There's Jax dressing up as Santa, making a complete idiot of himself as he hands out presents and Sonny off in the kitchen cooking his famous lasagna. That should be enough for her, two men at her beck and call. I guess not though. Oh no, she's all, 'I need you, Jason. It wouldn't be Christmas without you and the kids would miss their Uncle Jason.'" He was performing a spot on imitation of Carly's voice as she half bullied, half coaxed him into doing what she wanted him to do regardless of his preferences in the matter. "Not a single word of it was true either." His tone was aggrieved as he continued his ranting. "Michael spent the night whispering to Kristina while Molly and Morgan were playing games with that wee or whatever it's called that Sonny gave them. Josslyn was the only sensible one, she was sleeping."

He grunted irritably as he reached toward the alarm, his hand poised to push the button which would set it. "Still, it would have been okay if Sam was there. Carly went crazy with the mistletoe this year but she's not going to be back until New Year's. Hope I can make it that long!" His lips curled up wolfishly as he envisioned their reunion next week. "Nope," now his attention was on the alarm clock, "Not going to set it. Be just as happy if I slept through tomorrow."

He pulled back the bedcovers and turned off the light on the nightstand. Feeling marginally better after his extended tirade, he lay down and closing his eyes tried to relax. The last words he uttered were, "I hate the holidays!"

Downstairs, Spinelli sat disconsolately on the sofa. Not even the henceforth never failing magic of the classic Christmas movie could cheer him up. He had lost Maximista, his soul mate, the light of his dreary existence. He couldn't fool himself any longer, obviously Jason didn't care either. As irascible as he usually was, his current temper was beyond the bounds of anything Spinelli could remember from all the years of living with him. What a miserable Christmas this was going to be. There wasn't a single strand of lights, any type of decorations, nor an item of holiday food within the entirety of the penthouse to bring him the slightest inkling of Christmas cheer.

Miserably, he gathered the multicolored fuzzy afghan he had brought with him from Tennessee off the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself. He lay down full length on the sofa and watched the flickering screen of the television, the grayish light perfectly complementing his despondent mood. "Merry Christmas, Spinelli," he murmured forlornly to himself, tears of self pity slowly spilling from his eyes and trickling down his face.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


	2. Midnight

A/N: GH-nope, not mine, Dickens's Christmas Carol-ditto.

Midnight

Jason was dreaming that he was trudging barefoot through a field of snow. The wind was howling and blowing the snow horizontally, directly into his exposed face. He looked down at his body, he was dressed in the flannel sleep pants and thin t-shirt he had donned prior to going to bed. His teeth were chattering as he wrapped his arms around his torso in a vain attempt to warm himself up. He couldn't feel his fingers or his toes and he couldn't see a damn thing in the howling white nothingness he was trapped within.

He was awake, the dream still real and echoing in his mind. Jason's chest was rising and falling in his agitation and he was freezing. He had tossed and turned so much, caught in the thrall of the nightmare, that he had kicked all the sheets and blankets into a bunch at the foot of the bed. Even awake, Jason continued to be chilled to the bone, he was shivering and goose bumps were raised on every inch of exposed skin. He looked wildly around the darkened room trying to determine the source of the unnatural cold which had so unceremoniously seeped into his dreams and now that he was conscious was still surrounding him.

Jason looked in amazement at the plume of white smoke that was issuing from his mouth every time he breathed out. "It's so cold!" He moaned to himself while he wrapped his arms around his body and rubbed his torso in a vain attempt to warm himself up, precisely as he had in the dream. He sat up and turned on the lamp on the night table. Blearily, he looked at the bedside clock. "Almost midnight," he intoned to himself and then spontaneously shivered, though this time it didn't feel as though it was due to the intense cold in the room.

Now that his eyes were adjusted to the light, he slowly scanned the room looking for any cause of the abnormal chilliness that pervaded it. Not surprisingly, since it was late December, there didn't appear to be an open window in the room. So, after standing up, he walked over to the nearest heat register and crouching down placed his hand over it. There wasn't any air-hot or cold-coming up at the moment, so that couldn't possibly account for the abnormal temperature.

"Morgan!" The word crackled through the frigid silence of the room, coming from somewhere behind him.

Startled, Jason whipped around. Caught off guard, he overbalanced and fell on his rear. He peered up at his uninvited visitor in complete amazement accompanied by a slight and unfamiliar twinge of superstitious terror. "You...you're…de…dead!" He tried to convince himself that it was his chattering teeth which caused the stammering rather than pure unalloyed dread.

Lorenzo Alcazar cocked his head, a powder burnt bullet hole forming a perfect circle in the center of his forehead. His eyes were black unreadable holes as he considered Jason's assertion. "You would know," he agreed courteously, his usual unflappable demeanor seemingly unaltered by being deceased for over two years.

Jason reached his right hand over to his left forearm and without hesitation plucked a fold of skin up between his thumb and forefinger and, doing the best he could with his blunt fingernails, pinched himself viciously. He squeezed his eyes shut in reaction to the pain and when he opened them and peered out hopefully he was disappointed to see that Lorenzo's ghost was still standing in front of him. Jason was sure he was a ghost as he could clearly see the door and the edge of his bureau through him. Which meant one of two things and neither of them was good news.

"No," Lorenzo spoke in the same measured tones, not entirely devoid of sympathy though containing an additional faint underlying edge of humor, "You're not dreaming, hallucinating or insane. I am indeed here, sent to give you a message which I advise you to heed."

"Message?" Jason had managed to get his recalcitrant, half frozen body enough under control to finally scramble to his feet. Now he didn't feel quite so vulnerable being towered over by a ghost. Yet, on the other hand, he didn't really know what else he _could _do to Alcazar in the way of defending himself. Killing people had always been pretty final in the past. "Are you responsible for the drop in temperature?" He held out a goose bump covered arm as supporting evidence for his accusation.

Lorenzo shrugged unapologetically, "Yeah, it's a side effect of traveling in this form. Actually, I'm kind of enjoying it. It makes quite a nice change from you know…down there." He nodded significantly down at the floor and then looked up at Jason his eyebrows raised inquisitively as he checked to see if the mob enforcer had taken his meaning.

"I sent you to hell." Jason said it as a flat statement of fact.

Lorenzo stared at him narrowly, his lips forming a thin, unforgiving line, "Let's see if you can say that so easily when it's your turn."

"I know that is where I will go." Jason spoke quietly, his voice free of any inflection. "If that's the message you came to deliver, consider it received."

Lorenzo laughed abruptly, "No, that's not why I came. They don't really seem to care if you know whether you're heading down there or not. After all, they have eternity to make the outcome eminently clear. Do you know what the overriding emotion you feel is, when you're down there, time dripping through the hourglass like molasses?"

Jason just stared at him, not really wanting to have this conversation but then again if it would help to get this meeting or whatever it was over then he would play along. So, finally, as Lorenzo remained imperturbably silent, he shook his head and asked, "What?"

"It's not what you would expect. I mean don't get me wrong, all the stuff in books and paintings, that all really occurs. Well, not all actually," Lorenzo was momentarily distracted, his mind obviously elsewhere as he stared at an impatiently shifting, cold Jason without really seeing him. "Dante was entirely off the mark but then again he tried to get way too specific and Eurocentric. Hell has to cater to everyone, you know. It's an equal opportunity inferno." Suddenly Lorenzo's face transformed from that of a benign, introspective scholar pondering an abstraction to a grinning fiend who clearly was comfortable dwelling in the nether regions of hellfire and damnation. "So, as I was saying, it's not all the mundane and hackneyed things that consume you-the pain, the heat, the repetition, the despair. No, they're all terrible I grant you but they alone don't break the souls trapped down there…"

"Then what does?" Jason hadn't intended to speak. He didn't want to make Alcazar think he cared anything about his opinions, about what could possibly make hell worse than its publicity painted it but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"Regret," Lorenzo said the word so softly that Jason had to crane forward to hear him. "You regret everything you did, everything you didn't do, everything you should have done. It consumes you each moment of your existence down there until one of two things happen." Now he was looking directly at Jason, his eyes bleak and unfathomable. "Some crack under the relentless, never ending pressure and go insane and then nothing else really matters. The miserable souls who reach that point are released to just wander around the nether regions gibbering and providing local color. The other option is that you don't break. Instead, you do the complete opposite and are forged into the things which have been torturing you all along. Then, at that juncture, you move up and take your rightful place next to your comrades. Learning and honing your craft on the never ending supply of new arrivals." Again that soulless smile briefly creased his face before abruptly vanishing. "Still, I envy them, the crazy ones, they lose the ability to feel regret along with their minds."

"Regret," Jason echoed, rolling the word around on his tongue, finding it imbued with a smoky flavor as though the fires of hell were already licking at his soul.

Lorenzo regarded him through narrowed eyes, his face showing mingled feelings of hatred, resentment and most strange of all-envy. The next time he spoke, his tone was altered, it was darker, heavier and entirely somber. "For some reason that I have yet to comprehend, Morgan, you are to be given a unique chance. A final opportunity to stave off that conclusion which so many benighted souls, who indeed performed many fewer mortal sins than you have, are fated to suffer with no hope of leniency. It would seem the scale that measures deeds and thus, determines eternal destinations, in your case, is not irrevocably tilted toward damnation. You performed many…" There was a pause as Lorenzo grimaced and appeared to struggle for a moment before finally managing to eject the words with a disdainful growl, "Self-sacrificing acts. You saved lives, you repented and felt remorse upon numerous occasions and you risked your life for others. Yet, as you are well aware, you also repeatedly violated the sanctity of life."

Lorenzo's lips stretched wide in an unholy grin which Jason found he couldn't bear to behold. His eyes shifted down and he stared fixedly at the carpet while Alcazar continued his speech. "I am but one example, of your continuous blatant disregard of mankind's ultimate taboo. You have taken judgment that on earth duly belongs to the laws of man and in heaven solely to the will of God and made it your own creature. Of late, the totality of your acts has tilted the measured balance more clearly toward the danger of losing your immortal soul. It is an invisible but vital line that once is crossed removes all further hope of redemption."

Jason found he was shaking, his entire body trembling, the cold in the room was fiercer than ever but he knew that wasn't the cause of his discomfort which verged on agony. Every one of Lorenzo's words struck at his core, their harsh truth undeniable. Still, accompanying the despair engendered by Alcazar's dispassionate description of his heinous deeds, Jason felt deep inside himself the tiniest stirring of something he had long believed to be dead-hope.

Looking dazedly up at Lorenzo, he whispered, his voice strained and reedy, "I can avoid hell?"

He couldn't believe he was standing in his bedroom on Christmas Eve, no strike that-Christmas Day-conversing with a man he had killed years ago about the ultimate dispensation of his eternal soul. It wasn't that Jason didn't think about such things, he did. It wasn't that he didn't believe in the concepts of heaven and hell, he absolutely did. Sonny hadn't just taught him how to be an unfeeling and merciless killer; he also inculcated all his Catholic guilt within his new made protégé.

Yet, there was a telling difference between the intrinsic beliefs of the mentor and his acolyte. Sonny, like so many mobsters before him, fervently believed that strategically placed church visits to confession perpetually washed his sins-even murder-from his soul. Thus, his heartfelt, if convenient piety, made his entry into heaven, perhaps after a brief wayside stop in purgatory, definitively ensured. Sonny was so confident of the positive outcome of his divine bargaining that he planned for his time in purgatory to be curtailed as much as possible through the modern day equivalence of buying indulgences. That is he contributed obscene amounts of money to charitable projects sponsored by his church.

Jason, however, held a substantially different viewpoint on the subject. He didn't know if it was a matter of degree of faith or that in this one case Sonny was simply in denial. He didn't think words spoken in guilt to God's representative on earth were enough penance to expatiate such a wicked act as taking a human life. He particularly doubted the likelihood of such forgiveness if the penitent had every intention of repeating the action the next time a similar set of circumstances arose. Jason thought this might be one situation which Sonny couldn't argue, buy or order his way out of facing the associated consequences.

With regard to his own circumstances, he wasn't going to compound his sins by being a hypocrite or by begging clemency for being a natural creature of the dark. He wasn't imaginative and he didn't dwell on the afterlife. Whenever he did consider it, he viewed it as a done deal. He was on the hell express, no if, ands, or buts. Yet, here Lorenzo Alcazar stood, transparent and terrifying, exuding cold, very cold comfort for the man who had taken his life, separated him from his son and infant daughter and sent him to hell. He was apparently offering Jason what had been denied him-a second chance. It was the surrealistic combination of a demonic messenger offering the gift of immortal deliverance which was pushing Jason toward reluctant acceptance not only of the visitation itself but for the purported reason behind it.

Lorenzo lazily inclined his head, his baleful eyes gleaming with a flat light as he answered Jason. "It isn't assured but there is a possibility that you may. You are being offered a singular opportunity. Tonight, when the clock strikes the hours of one, two and three you will be visited by a succession of specters. They will guide you on a journey of discovery after which the choice as to salvation or damnation will be yours alone to make. You yet possess free will and the chance to exercise it."

He was starting to fade, to become even more translucent and Jason spoke rapidly, desperate to know the answer to his question from the only person who could give it. "Wait!" He pleaded, "Alcazar, your choice, if you had one, what would it have been?"

He was almost gone, impervious to Jason's attempt to stop him. His answer wafted across the empty space where he had stood, immaterial and ghostly, mere seconds ago, "To not feel regret."

The room wasn't cold anymore and it was only occupied by Jason. He shook his head as though to dispel the remnants of a dream, a nightmare. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to sleep. Turning he stumbled back to the bed and tumbling into it pulled the covers up over himself. Cocooned securely within them and without even turning off the lamp, Jason fell immediately into a deep sleep.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


	3. One in the Morning

A/N: I have no claims nor rights to either GH or Charles Dickens' inimitable tale. Still, I get the fun of merging them into a 21st century amalgam that really illustrates how the changes we have experienced and thought to be profound over the intervening years are really little more than a thin veneer of cultural alteration overlaid upon our indisputable and fundamentally flawed humanity.

One in the Morning

"Jase, c'mon, Jase, you have to get up." The voice was hauntingly familiar as it tugged at him, pulling him out of a deep and dreamless sleep.

Jason cracked one eye open, there was a figure kneeling by the side of the bed backlit by the lamp he'd forgotten to switch off in his overpowering need for sleep. He felt like he couldn't breathe, as though someone had hit him in the solar plexus expelling all the air from his lungs.

He reached out a tremulous hand amazed and grateful when it came in contact with warm skin. "Emily?" He asked in wonderment, sure he was dreaming but not caring.

She smiled at him, her beloved face glowing with grace, as she reached out and captured his hand against his cheek, reveling in the long denied contact as was Jason. "Yeah, it's me, Jase." She spoke soothingly, the way a mother does to a frightened child. "We have to go, there isn't much time."

"Go where?" He was bewildered and resistant. Jason didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted to stay like this forever, gazing into Emily's eyes and apologizing to her with his.

"Jase," she sighed and there was that remembered spark of disappointment in her stare that always competed against her undoubted love for him. "You were visited, warned that I…and the others would be coming. We have a tight schedule, we need to go."

"No," he was stubborn, petulant almost like a spoiled child. "I don't care what Lorenzo said or who these others are. I just want to stay here with you. I want to spend the whole time with you."

"You can't," she snapped at him, suddenly angry in a way he recalled well when she was fighting for something precious to her. "Don't you understand what is at stake here, Jason? You can't forfeit your soul for nostalgia's sake, for guilt, not even for love." On that last word the stern look of her face and tone of her voice abated but not the determination evident in both. "I won't allow it!"

He was sitting up, his hand still against her cheek, ready to argue with her, to bend her to his will when the entire room suddenly began to spin around them. He fell forward into Emily, clutching at her, nauseated and frightened. "What's happening?" Those were the words he tried to get out but the syllables were stretched and bent and all he heard was a long continuous moan emitting from his lips.

He fell to the ground with a thump which caused all the air to eject from his lungs. Jason lay where he was deposited fighting to get oxygen into his lungs, to start breathing again. With a great whoosh he suddenly felt the downward pull of his diaphragm as the creation of negative pressure within his chest cavity restarted the respiration process by forcing air deep down into his starved lungs. Finally, his lungs were inflated with sweet air and he could once more breathe freely. It took a few more moments of agitated panting to get oxygen once again circulating through his body before he felt some faith in his restored mortality.

Slowly and carefully, Jason pushed himself up off the hard, unyielding surface he had been reclining on until he was sitting upright. He suddenly felt extremely dizzy and couldn't go any farther for the moment. He sat still, his legs stretched out on the ground as he gathered his scattered wits and perusing his surroundings. He was amazed to see he was clad in street clothes-jeans, boots, t-shirt and leather jacket. Considering it was December, he knew he owed a debt to whatever magic Emily possessed that enabled her to dress him like a doll that was precious to her.

Jason frowned to himself, this place looked extremely familiar, "Emily," he hissed, suddenly petrified that she had left him again, after only having her back for such a short while. "Where are you?"

"Right here," she was walking toward him, coming from out of the shrubbery surrounding the terrace. "I was just revisiting some of my old haunts," she said, a dreamy, wistful expression on her face. "I wish it was summer and I could see Grandmother's rose garden in bloom." She spoke in a yearning tone and for a minute the blood in Jason's body thrummed uneasily in response as he remembered Alcazar's warning about regret being the true torment of hell.

"I think your transportation abilities need work," he grumbled at her as he started to get up off the ground.

Emily offered him a hand, laughing as she stumbled backwards under the force of pulling him upward. "Sorry about that, I forget what a solid wall of muscle you are."

He grinned down at her, instantly pardoning her anything as he always had and ardently wished he still could. "Well, that's how it seems to a little pipsqueak like you anyway," he teased her, his eyes brimming with affection.

She shoved at him in futile mock anger as he didn't budge an inch. "Hey, dead person here you know. Maybe due to special circumstances, you could ease up on tormenting your little sister." Instantly, her eyes clouded over and filled with tears of repentance as she realized what she had just said. "Jason, I'm sorry, I didn't think. It's just I've had time to get used to it, to adjust and that wasn't funny, I know…" She trailed off miserably.

Jason swallowed, with a supreme effort of will he pushed down all the resurgent grief her carelessly spoken words had evoked and reaching over tipped her chin up and looked down at her. She stared up at him out of soft brown eyes full of love and he was undone. "So," he murmured, "This is what the cosmos has in store for me, a visit to the Quartermaines? I could have gotten here almost as fast as on my bike and without being half suffocated."

Emily glared at him, "Stop it Jason!" She ordered, entirely seriously. "This isn't a game and while, yes, we're at the Quarter…" she corrected herself hastily, "home, you couldn't have gotten here on your bike." Stepping away from him she moved resolutely toward the French doors, gesturing for him to follow her.

They entered through the doors into a scene of pandemonium which wasn't in the least disconcerting to either of them. The room was full of Quartermaines each one doing what Quartermaines do best, talking-no screaming-at the top of their lungs.

"Tracey," Monica was yelling, "If you don't shut up, I'll kick you out into the street, Christmas or not!"

"She's my sister and I say you can't do that. Where's your holiday spirit, Monica?" Alan had never learned not to interfere with the ritualized power struggle that perennially occurred between wife and sister as they vied for his attention and affection.

"This Grinch?" Scoffed Tracy, staring at Monica disdainfully, "She wouldn't know holiday spirit if it came up and offered her a laced cup of eggnog."

Oh, that's rich coming from you, Tracy," responded Monica, getting angrier by the moment, "I can't think you even know how to spell the words holiday spirit."

"Well, I don't know if he can spell them or not," Tracy's eyes were thin slits as she moved in for the kill, "But darling AJ certainly seems to know all about spiked eggnog."

She thumbed over her shoulder to indicate where a very clearly inebriated AJ stood swaying. He was clutching a cup of the holiday beverage haphazardly in his hand and the contents appeared in imminent danger of spilling out upon the Lila's priceless Persian carpet. Tracy knew a perfect exit line when she uttered one and she stalked off to join her father and mother sitting in the corner of the living room by the enormous Christmas tree, paging together through a photograph album.

"AJ," Monica's sigh of resigned love was heartbreaking for Jason to hear.

Alan reached over and clasped her to him in a gentle bear hug, her head tucked under his chin as she rested it tiredly against his chest. Monica wrapped her arms around him, fiercely clinging to him. "He'll be all right." He said the lie as though it was the truth and for a fleeting moment they both allowed themselves to believe it.

The double doors to the living room opened ushering Emily and Jason in, both unbearably young and vibrant as they laughed over some shared joke. Only Tracy and AJ's faces failed to light up in welcome toward the newcomers.

"Emily," Jason whispered urgently, unable to take in the scene before them without asking, "When is this?"

"Jason," she admonished him gently, "You don't have to worry about them hearing or seeing us. We're not real to them, we aren't of their time. This is the Christmas before your accident." She added reflectively, tapping her finger against her lips, "Do you remember it at all?" She gave him a curious sidelong glance.

He shook his head apologetically, surveying the scene before him. He and Emily were standing before Edward and Lila talking happily to them. Lila was smiling gently up at her grandchildren and even Edward's usual dour expression was replaced by something lighter, a look that in someone else might have been interpreted as joy.

"I don't think so…not really. Though," he was speaking slowly as though trying to dredge up something long buried and forgotten, "It feels vaguely familiar, like some old movie I watched a long time ago but not like something I actually experienced."

Emily nodded in sad acceptance, she hadn't really expected anything different. "It's your past, Jason. Everyone adored you."

"Not everyone," Jason indicated AJ, standing forgotten by the buffet table. Overshadowed by his golden siblings, he drained the cup of eggnog and turned back to the punch bowl scooping out another helping. Only Monica noticed as she watched him with silent, worried eyes.

"We can't stay," Emily spoke abruptly as she grabbed hold of Jason's forearm.

Jason's protests were ignored as he fought in vain to remain a while longer. He was surprised to find himself wanting to extend his visit to this lost moment in his family's history which appeared as close to a state of perfection as his dysfunctional relatives were capable of attaining.

This time the disjunction caused by their swirling journey through time and space was much less disconcerting to Jason. Only his inner ear rebelled causing him to stand still for a moment at the new location which remained unseen and unknown because his eyes were closed while he fought to fight against the dizziness caused by their unexpected flight. Slowly, he opened his eyes, as he tried best he could to brace himself for any new revelations, any further emotional exertions he might experience in their new locale.

"Jake's," he breathed out in disappointed surprise.

It seemed he wasn't going to visit any exotic locales in this series of what exactly-hallucinations, dreams, or visions? Again Emily had moved away from him while he recovered from their unconventional mode of travel. Naturally, she was unaffected and he spotted her over by the jukebox running her fingers over the selections. Jason looked around the bar. At first glance it looked no different than it did when he visited it earlier this evening for a nightcap after all his enforced socialization at Carly's house.

Then he gradually began to notice small discrepancies between the two bars or more accurately the two times. For example, the tables and chairs scattered around the room were different then the ones which currently occupied it now. Still, they seemed somehow to fit in Jason's brain, to belong where they were. He shook his head puzzled, perhaps it was just due to another residual shard of memory surfacing in his damaged mind. There was a flickering blue and red neon sign advertising Pabst beer. Yet, earlier tonight Jason had looked directly at that same wall and there was a lighted sign there all right but it was a red and white advertisement for Budweiser, not Pabst. He knew it was definitely Jake's, just a different version as though Emily had brought him back to…

She was standing behind him sighing impatiently. "You're smart, Jase, so I have to believe you are just fighting against accepting this. It's Jake's all right, simply an older version, about twenty years ago or so. Of course, I wouldn't know," she grinned at him, her nose crinkling up and her eyes dancing mischievously, "I was underage back then."

"Yeah, a pesky little thing," Jason agreed, giving back as good as he got, "All legs and big eyes and clumsy to boot. Didn't you ever wonder why Grandmother put all her precious breakables away for several years?"

Before Emily managed to gather her thoughts for an appropriately withering reply, the door to the bar crashed open and he, no, not him, the other him…God! This was confusing! Young Jason and Carly, beautiful, wild and oh, so achingly young, Carly stumbled in together. Carly was laughing, an uninhibited, husky sound that had made his pulse race whenever he heard it back then.

"C'mon on Jason," she was pulling him behind her, half running for the pool table. "It's Christmas Eve and I want to have some fun!"

Jason looked around the bar searching for some indication of what Carly had said, some sign of the holiday. All he could see was a string of white lights trailing haphazardly over the back of the bar. 'Even Coleman does better than that,' he thought to himself scornfully. He was remembering the blush worthy animated Mrs. Santa sitting on the bar. Whenever someone walked by the figure twirled around showing an inappropriately thronged behind as a pitiably tinny sounding adaptation of 'Santa Baby' played.

Every time the thing activated his trigger finger itched. Still, Jason, by exercising his iron self control, managed to quell his incipient urge to do the tawdry figurine violence although he did seriously consider displacing his annoyance by punching Coleman instead. The bartender, not always the most sensitive of men, had definitely picked up on Jason's displeasure and with a martyred sigh reached over and turned the kitschy piece off in mid twirl. Jason was allowed to finish his beer in peace before quitting Jake's and heading back home, the taunting strains of a reactivated 'Santa Baby' following his exit out in the snowy darkness. Jason was astonished to find himself now actively longing for the semi-obscene figurine with a surprisingly fierce intensity.

The other versions of Jason and Carly were playing a wickedly competitive game of pool. Their concentration was only briefly interrupted by the advent of the bartender, who Jason vaguely remembered as being Coleman's predecessor's predecessor. He dropped off beers for both of them, leaving them on the rim of the pool table without speaking. He was clearly performing a long standing ritual.

The door to the bar opened once again and AJ Quartermaine came in followed by a gust of cold air. Jason's eyes narrowed at the sight of his older half-brother. The couple at the pool table marked his entrance but gave no indication of caring. With cool indifference they continued their intricate mating dance fueled by alcohol and the click clack of the smooth, colorful balls as they ran the table.

Jason stood concealed in unnecessary darkness, his sister quiet by his shoulder, as he perused his brother. He ordered a bottle of scotch and a glass as he sat glaring at Jason and Carly, their pretended oblivion having morphed into actual forgetfulness. AJ had difficulty maintaining his balance on the bar stool, it was clear he had been drinking prior to coming to Jake's. Jason was shocked to find the usual black cloud of contempt which swept over him upon catching sight of his brother tonight being leavened by an unexpected upwelling of pity.

"I hope he's not driving," Emily murmured anxiously from beside him.

Jason looked down in bemusement at his ever giving and forgiving little sister. With great forbearance he managed to bite down on either of the two sardonic responses which sprang to his lips. The first being, 'I hope no one is driving _with_ him' while the second was, 'It didn't happen this night, Emily. You know it, I know it and it's just too damn bad it didn't!'

He felt a bitter sense of pride that he managed to avoid hurting his sister's ghost but what difference did it make when matched up against all the times he had mistreated her in the flesh? He stared at AJ for a further moment, thinking morosely of all the pain he was soon to cause the two people playing pool even as they tried to pretend that this was a normal way to spend Christmas Eve.

"You know," Emily's gentle voice broke into his thoughts, "Without AJ, there would never have been Michael."

He stared at her in stupefaction. She was right, it was so simple and so true a fact. Yet, Jason had never once thought of it that way.

Suddenly, Carly's raucous cackle broke through the seedy silence of the bar. "I won fair and square, Jason. Now pay up!"

Jason watched his younger self, grumbling as he made his way toward the juke box, the tiniest of smiles curving his lips once his back was turned to Carly. He remembered this night, how he had let Carly win. He wondered if she suspected. The bet had been a dance if she won and sex if he won. They both knew the sex was predestined no matter who the winner was and so Jason had thought he might as well indulge Carly's all too seldom seen feminine side. She never asked much of him anyway. He would think of suffering through a dance with good grace as his Christmas gift to her.

He was back and Carly was in his arms but suddenly she stopped moving and just stood there with a stunned look on her face. Then she started giggling, "Jason, what is that?" She asked gasping with hilarity as the song from the jukebox commandeered the attention of all four occupants of the bar.

Jason looked accusingly at Emily, "What did you do?"

Emily didn't hear him, she was too busy spinning around the floor, a dreamy smile on her face. Across the room, other, younger, whatever the fuck Jason was back at the jukebox pushing buttons trying to get it to stop or play another song. He kicked the machine in frustration when nothing he tried was effective. Meanwhile the notes of Wham's nineteen eighties hit 'Careless Whisper' continued to pour out through the bar. The sticky sweet soft music, over the top use of horns and underlying percussion were all as nothing when compared to George Michael's whiny, self-indulgent voice singing his nauseating and narcissistic paean to guilt.

Carly had gone over to join her Jason in trying to get the jukebox under control. Jason's peripheral vision caught a flash of movement over by the bar. He followed the distracting flutter of motion and saw AJ doubled over, clutching his stomach. At first Jason thought with grim satisfaction that he was sick or might have appendicitis (though he never did have so that couldn't be right) but then he realized he was laughing so hard he was crying.

Scowling and throwing caution to the wind, Jason yelled, "Emily! What the hell is that…" he couldn't call it music, and it sure as hell wasn't something he would ever voluntarily choose to listen to and she _had_ been playing around with the machine earlier, "Song?" He managed to grit the word out and get himself a little more under control as he looked once more with loathing at his brother, who was breathing hard as he swiped at the tears streaming down his face. Even the bartender was standing there, his usually sour face split into a wide grin of enjoyment as he contemplated Jason's angry frustration with the unresponsive jukebox.

"What?" Emily asked, her face a picture of innocence, "I always loved this song. When I was a teenager I used to play it and think of Nicholas." Two vivid spots of color appeared on her cheekbones as she recalled the hopelessness of her adolescence crush on the perennially polite and clueless prince.

"Well, I _would _never pick a song like that, change it." Jason was using his ultimatum voice which always worked with Spinelli.

Emily just stared at him, amused and entirely unfazed by his command. Suddenly, her eyes grew large with concern. "It's late and we have other stops," she said breathlessly. She grabbed for him dragging him forward into the swirling mists that surrounded them whenever they switched locations and times.

This time Jason was barely flustered at all when they arrived at their new destination. Truth be told, he was glad to be out of Jake's, away from that embarrassing scene which hadn't actually ever occurred. He wondered grimly if Emily's little trick had managed to change that long ago Christmas Eve and that was now how that night played out.

"Don't be such a party pooper, Jason." She scolded him, proving conclusively that this Emily could absolutely read his mind, not that the original model didn't do a pretty good job of it as well. "Of course, I didn't change the past. I don't have that type of power and neither do you. Besides, this journey you're on isn't about the past. It's about your future, about where you are going to end up when you die." She was looking at him and there was a deep abiding sadness in the tone of her voice.

Jason didn't know how to respond to such a blunt reminder of why they were undertaking this bizarrely extended visit to his past and he decided it was safest to say nothing. They were back outside again. It was a sharp cold night, the stars crystalline flecks embedded in the vast dark sky. There was little ambient lighting, only a few distant streetlamps. He recognized where they were, down by the docks. This was an area that Sonny bought years ago and now it was all renovated into upscale offices, boutiques and restaurants. Looking around him, Jason didn't need to be told that they were back in the past and a cold superstitious shiver of dread ran down his spine as he thought of what it was he might have been brought here to see.

They didn't have long to wait. Emily stood huddled next to him as though seeking warmth or comfort from his bulk. The thought briefly crossed his mind as to wonder at her current need for either form of succor. He was simply pleased to be near her, to be needed by her even in such a rudimentary manner that he chased all such questions from his mind. Sometimes it was a blessing to not be too analytical.

His night adjusted eyes picked up the vague outline of the shapes approaching them before they spoke. "Did you bring it?" Jason recognized his own voice, it was an angry rasp. 'Do I sound like that?' he wondered with a faint tinge of shame.

"Look, Mr. Morgan, It's Christmas Eve. I've got bills. We had to get presents for the kids, a tree, a turkey…" The voice of the other shadow was tremulous, pleading.

Jason felt Emily's body stiffen next to him. He wished desperately he could convince her to leave before the scene played out but he knew instinctively that she would have to watch.

His alter ego spoke again, his voice callous and unyielding. "When Mr. Corinthos lent you the money he didn't make a bunch of excuses about how he couldn't do it right then and there. The repayment plan was clearly explained to you as were the consequences if you failed to pay up. You signed a binding document."

The man tried one more time to influence the unreachable enforcer. "I'll have it all this time next week. I have a sure fire prospect coming up and I can pay what I owe and more in interest."

Jason shook his head, bored, he had heard this same speech more times than he cared to consider. Without any warning he reached out and grabbed the man's forearm. There was the clear cut sound of bone snapping which was almost instantaneously succeeded by a scream of agony as the unknown debtor fell to the ground clutching his broken arm and sobbing.

An indifferent Jason intoned, "You better have the money next week or more of the same will happen. I went easy on you tonight as it was Christmas Eve and all." He turned and strode away. He wasn't trying to be stealthy in the least, his boots rang out challengingly against the cobblestones of the old wharf roads as he vanished into the night.

Emily had stepped back from the shelter of his side. She didn't speak but Jason could visualize her beloved face twisted with abhorrence as she finally saw first-hand what her beloved brother was truly capable of, of finally perceiving the monster he was.

Jason was mortified by his behavior, his ability to inflict pain on a weaker being and all in the name of his hero worship of Sonny Corinthos. He wanted to say something in defense of the indefensible. He literally ached to explain to Emily how it was back then but that wasn't who he was now or perhaps, in the worst excess of cowardice, use that old tired standby, and blame it on the brain damage. Yet, before he could embark upon his justifications, an inner voice coldly asked him if he were planning to add lying to his sister to his currently endless list of moral transgressions. Somehow, he managed to remain quiet, to preserve Emily's dignity at the terrible cost of losing his own stature in her eyes.

The man's sobs continued unabated. Jason felt rather than saw Emily's abortive start forward as she reached for him, maybe in a thwarted effort to use her medical skills or merely because she felt compassionate toward another human being who was suffering and in pain. Her arm dropped uselessly back by her side as she caught herself, recognizing her limitations on this plane of existence.

Her voice echoed in the dank, salt air, it was strained and fraught with tears, "We have to go. There's nothing else here." This time she didn't grip him firmly, her fingers barely brushed the slick surface of Jason's leather jacket and once again they were spinning through space and time.

Jason stumbled, almost falling before he managed to right himself. He didn't know if the cause for his bad landing was because they were once more outside and the ground was rocky and uneven underfoot or if it was Emily being careless with her less than precious cargo. He risked a glance at his sister but her face was smoothly unreadable as she stood next to him on some dimly lit street in a place that wasn't familiar to him.

There was a plain white church across the street from them and the in the hush of the clear night they could hear the congregation singing 'O Holy Night' the notes spilling out through the gold lit windows. Wherever they were at the moment, it wasn't as bitterly cold as it had been on the docks with the sea wind cutting into them. Jason looked up at the sky which was scattered across with multitudes of twinkling stars, many more than had been visible in Port Charles as the city lights occluded nature's most grandly divine canvas. He felt an alien sensation stealing through his body, his muscles relaxed as he stared at the cosmos and listened to the music, Jason felt momentarily at peace.

He stole a look at Emily only to find her staring right back at him, a smile of forgiveness on her lips and a love that he never quite understood how he ever engendered it gleaming from her eyes. In response to her peace offering, Jason gifted her back with a rare, unguarded smile of potent power that few ever saw. He was simply content to stand on this unknown street, in this strange town and wait for whatever it was Emily intended to show him. He was just enjoying being in her company, reveling in the silent communion between them. More to the point, he wasn't worried that they would be watching any more of his past misdeeds, he knew for a fact he had never been here before.

The church doors opened and the congregation spilled out into the winter night. They all knew one another, were obviously all friends, relatives, neighbors. Unceasing calls of "Merry Christmas!" flew back and forth as they eddied out onto the sidewalk and splitting into groups of families, friends, paired couples headed away to the comfort and security of their homes. Only a very few clambered into cars for the drive home, most walked, their feet scrunching on the fallen snow. The pastor stood at the door, guarding his flock's dispersal and wishing them the joy of the season.

A few minutes later, the final group to exit through the double doors was the choir members. They were made up a chatting, laughing cluster of people of all ages, giddy with the success of their final and most important performance of the year. They gathered in a loose assembly, talking and comparing notes on the service. After a few moments, they began to break apart just like the larger crowd of parishioners before them.

Jason, growing tired of watching the innocuous behavior of a group of people he didn't know, was almost ready to ask Emily why they were standing in front of this church, when his eye was irresistibly drawn to a solitary figure descending the steps. The pastor had extinguished the interior lights and was currently standing outside the double doors checking to make sure they were securely locked.

He called out to the other person as he drew nearer to both the sidewalk and the two silent watchers across the street. "Merry Christmas, Damian, and be sure to pass season greetings on to your grandmother from me."

Jason drew in his breath, all his attention now riveted on the slight shape as he raised a desultory hand of acknowledgment toward the pastor and turning left at the sidewalk started walking away from the church. "Spinelli," he breathed out, looking around himself with renewed interest as he tried to place anything about the location but failing miserably. "Is this…?" He asked, turning to Emily, his tone aggrieved as he suspected what information she had withheld from him.

She nodded edgily, already she was moving past Jason, following the hunched figure up ahead that was moving rapidly away from them. "Yes, it's Oakfield, Tennessee. C'mon, Jason, keep up, I don't want to lose him."

Jason hurried to catch up with Emily, not wasting any more words. His eyes were fixed on Spinelli as he belatedly recognized every single familiar aspect about him. He walked with his standard stooped posture, caving his body in on itself in an attempt to not draw any undo attention. The fact that he was clearly only wearing a hoodie against the December chill, which was only warm in relation to Port Charles' more frigid northern temperatures, annoyed but didn't surprise Jason. "Stupid kid," he muttered finding himself feeling infinitely more concerned for the physical well being of his flesh and blood roommate than his apparition of a sister.

Emily sent him a sharp glance in an effort to ascertain what he was talking about and then grinned as realization dawned. "So, you do care?" she asked him teasingly.

"Care?" He growled back at her not interested in a sharing moment, his only goal to keep Spinelli in sight. "Of course I care, it's freezing out and that boy never has the sense God gave a jackrabbit. He has more than his fair share of brains but he skipped the line where they were handing out commonsense. He doesn't take care of himself."

"That's because he doesn't think anyone cares whether lives or dies," Emily said soberly, her face erased of all amusement.

"That's ridiculous," Jason said sharply, his ire aroused. Even Emily didn't get to say such things about Spinelli. Anyway, she barely knew him. "Lots of people care about him-Lulu, Ma…," he caught himself as he realized that Maxie didn't belong on the list anymore, at least not from where he was standing, "Sam, Diane Miller, Mike Corbin, Johnny Zacchara, Carly, Jax and well, lots of other people."

"You, Jason?" Emily asked him quietly, the absence of smoky clouds erupting from her mouth when she spoke reminding him uncomfortably of the fact that she didn't need to breathe, "Do you care?"

"Of course, I care! He's my friend, my roommate, he's important to me," Jason was indignant knowing as he spoke how much more of his actual feelings remained hidden. Yet, even on this incoherent night, where it didn't matter what was said, when it was only Emily's empathetic ears which would hear his confession, he still couldn't quite force himself to form the words, simple and true as they were.

"Well, he needs to know that otherwise he won't ever care about how warmly he's dressed or whether he eats well. Since he thinks he doesn't matter to anyone it then follows that it doesn't matter what he does." Her voice was uninflected but her comment cut Jason to the quick as he mentally agreed with the veracity of her conclusion.

The dark figure stopped up ahead, Spinelli looked around furtively at his surroundings. They were now in the downtown area of Oakfield but the shops were all long since closed up in anticipation of the holiday eve. The only people around to observe the young hacker were Emily and Jason. After assuring himself that he was alone, Spinelli dug deep down into the pocket of his jeans and pulled something out. There was a distinctive metallic click followed by a brief flare of light which lit up his face with an unearthly orange glow before it was extinguished. Now, a bright, flickering pinprick of light was the only sign in the darkness of where Spinelli stood.

"Goddamn it!" it, Jason snarled, he was already striding forward, furious with the boy. "He knows better. I am so going to give it to him."

"Jase!" Emily's useless protest fell on deaf ears.

Jason was close upon Spinelli who stood on the street corner lost in blissful contemplation of the joint held between the thumb and index finger of his right hand. His arms were tightly wrapped around his thin middle and he shivered in his inadequate clothing. Jason reached out across space intent on snatching the offending item from his hand and crushing it beneath the heel of his boot. Then he was going to grab the idiot kid by his shirt front and give him a tongue lashing about why he didn't do drugs ever and he sure as hell didn't do them in Jason Morgan's presence and hadn't they already had this conversation? After that he was going to shrug out of his jacket and wrap it around the undernourished boy and take him home. No, wait, this wasn't Port Charles and it wasn't now…it was then…whenever then was. Okay, well, fuck it all, he'd take him to his grandmother's house and make sure he got in safe and sound. At least that was Jason's plan, clearly outlined in his mind and straightforward to execute, or so he thought.

One minute Jason was walking forward, his hand poised to grasp the homemade cigarette from between Spinelli's fingers and the next he was crashing forward, falling once more toward the ground. He landed with an audible crash on the sidewalk Spinelli was standing on, seemingly completely oblivious to either his mentor's presence or his wrath.

"Jason, are you okay?" Emily was crouched beside him, trying to do her best to not laugh, as she reached down and attempted to help her brother up off the ground.

"I'm fine," he waved her away and crawled first to his knees. He knelt there for a minute as he regained both his breath and his self-esteem. He stared down in perplexity at his scraped hands. It seemed he might be time traveling tonight but his corporeal body was definitely along for the trip.

"You can't talk to anyone, touch anyone. This is their time, their world, we're just observers." Emily was long suffering in her explanation of what they both knew should have been obvious to Jason by now.

Jason looked up sadly at Spinelli, who was taking the last few puffs on his joint before carefully stepping on it and throwing it in a nearby trash receptacle. That was Spinelli all over again, even doing drugs, he was forever considerate of the environment and intent on not littering.

"I just don't like seeing him like this," his voice was low and there was a jagged edge of despair to it.

"I know it's hard," Emily said sympathetically, but this isn't just to torture you, it has a point. You can change things for yourself, for him." She gestured at the stoned hacker who was walking away from them, continuing slowly on home.

"Can't we at least follow, make sure he gets home all right?" Jason was pleading, even though he guessed the answer before Emily spoke.

She shook her head regretfully, "There's not much time left." Once more she reached out for Jason, entwining her fingers in his. He felt the by now expected tug of the spinning sensation and the main street of Oakfield began to blur and vanish from sight.

This time they were standing on a familiar porch which Jason recognized as encircling the Spencer house on Royal Street. It was a friendly, welcoming house and had been a second home to Emily when she was a teenager. Now the two of them stood outside the living room window peering in at the festive scene within.

Laura Spencer was standing directly in front of them directing the decorating of a massive Christmas tree. Lulu Spencer, a wide eyed toddler, watched the proceedings with enthralled interest from a play pen set off to the side. Lucky Spencer, Nicholas Cassidine, Elizabeth Webber and Emily herself were busy putting up ornaments according to Laura's precise directions. Nicholas was perched precariously on a step ladder as he reached up the tree. Even with his arm fully extended, he was just barely able to place the shimmering angel on the top, where it reigned gold and glistening in pride of place. Down below, Emily was paused in the act of wrapping a garland around the tree, the bittersweet tang of an unrequited love clearly etched in her face as she stared with longing up at the young and oblivious Cassidine heir.

Jason's eye was caught by the sight of Elizabeth and Lucky holding hands and whispering excitedly to one another as they placed a few final ornaments on the tree. He glanced at Laura and saw she was looking at them as well, a small knowing smile on her face.

"It was ever thus and ever thus shall it be." Jason had no idea where the words had sprung from unbidden. He had some vague idea that he had heard Spinelli quote them. They just seemed to perfectly sum up the undying love that appeared to forever bind Elizabeth and Lucky to one another.

Emily didn't hear what Jason said, she was occupied with her own thoughts, lost in a pensive study of Nicholas. Though it was a more mature, less starry eyed reflection than the hearts and flower ideal of her younger counterpart, the pureness of the love they both bore the dark, enigmatic, passionate man was identical, regardless of its vintage.

"Emily," Jason nudged her, he was getting a little tired of standing around in the cold and dark. His sister might not be physically impacted by the temperature but he sure was. His hands felt like blocks of ice. He had placed them under his armpits in an attempt to warm them up. He didn't like the image projected of the stoic Jason Morgan fighting off hypothermia as he stood on a suburban porch, little better than a peeping Tom, no matter that no one but Emily could perceive him. "Why are we here?"

Emily continued to look through the window, her face forlorn, unshed tears clung to her lashes as she said wistfully, "Laura loved...loves," she corrected herself, "Christmas so much. We would do anything to bring that sweet smile to her face. She reminds me so much of Grandmother."

"Yeah," Jason was uncertain as to what was going on here. He was beginning to sense this visit had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Emily. He pulled one cold hand out from its makeshift shelter and wrapping it tenderly around his sister's shoulders pulled her close to him. He bent his head down and brushed a soft kiss across her silken hair. "You guys were great friends."

"The Four Musketeers," she tried to say it brightly with a small melancholy laugh but it cut off and became a sob instead. Emily turned and buried her head in Jason's chest. She was crying in earnest now and Jason stood there feeling her misery reverberate through him. He stroked her hair comfortingly and made soothing, pointless noises. Her weeping slowly tapered off and she raised her tear stained face up to look at him. "I just wanted to see them, see us one more time. Is that so terrible?" She craved reassurance.

He smiled down at her, his thumbs wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "No, that isn't terrible at all. You love them, they love you. It's natural to want to visit a time when you were all happy and it seemed like anything was possible." Jason had a brief flash of envy that Emily and all those other young people cozily ensconced around the Christmas tree had the luxury of such memories to warm them on nights like this. It would appear his experiences didn't lend themselves to indulgent reminiscences but rather to soul searching discoveries as to his worthiness to escape brimstone and hellfire.

"Oh, the time, Jason, the time!" Emily looked desperately worried as she realized she had been negligent in keeping track of where they were supposed to be. "We have to go now." She turned her head and cast one last look of agonized yearning over her shoulder, before wrapping her arms even more firmly around Jason's waist.

"Oomph!" The grunt was torn reflexively from Jason's throat as he landed on the carpeted floor of his bedroom in the penthouse. He sent his patented stone cold glare up at his sheepish looking sister who, as usual, was standing in the middle of the room perfectly unaffected and unscathed by their wild flight. "I am going to be black and blue tomorrow!" He groaned to further make his point though secretly he was just relieved to be back where there was central heating.

"Sorry, Jason," she smiled at him contritely, "I got a little carried away on that last one but I couldn't afford to be late, especially with my little extracurricular side trip."

"Late for what?" Jason was standing and rubbing at his sore back, he hadn't really listened to Emily.

"Jason!" She was clearly exasperated with him but there was fear in her voice as well. "You heard what Lorenzo said, three spirits will visit you. Then afterward you will have a decision, a choice to make."

"Can't you be the other two spirits?" He cajoled her, not interested in dealing with any other ghostly guides. "We've got the whole jumping around thing down to a fine art now. We could save time on the future trips."

She smiled fondly at him but her eyes were distressed. "Jase, this is serious. You have to do this the right way and pay attention. You only have this one chance, there won't be any others." She stepped close to him, her small hand coming up to caress his cheek. "I want to see you again, Jason, we all do." She was fading away, just like Lorenzo had. He clutched at her in a frantic effort to try and keep her with him but he was only grasping at air. "Make the right decision, Jason." The words were thin and stretched out as he found himself once more alone in his bedroom.


	4. Two in the Morning

A/N: It's Christmas Eve and to forestall any ghosts that might want to come along and point out the numerous ways in which I have erred, I clearly state that I have no rights to or claims upon either General Hospital or A Christmas Carol. I hope everyone has a lovely holiday.

Two in the Morning

"Emily!" Jason was moaning in his sleep as he tossed and turned in the tangled blankets and sheets of his bed. "Don't go, please come back!"

"Jason, ssh, son, you're all right. You need to wake up now, it's time."

The voice penetrated Jason's trapped state of being half awake and half asleep. It wasn't Emily's voice speaking, his mind was aware enough to recognize that and to peg it as being masculine. Yet, it had a very recognizable cadence which tugged at his memory. He opened his eyes but this time it appeared he had remembered to turn off the lamp on the night table before collapsing into the bed. 'When did this happen?' He thought with drowsy bewilderment as his fingers brushed against the washed softness of the t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he had worn to bed earlier in the night. He had neither any recollection of getting dressed to go out with Emily nor undressed when they returned.

"Jason? Are you with me son?"

He tried to make his exhausted, bewildered brain focus on whoever was speaking to him. His pupils had expanded to compensate for the darkness of the room and he managed to make out a bulky shape that was marginally denser and blacker seeming than the air surrounding it. The visitor was sitting on Jason's bed close by his head and Jason tardily realized there was a hand on his shoulder. He was mildly startled to discover that his first impulse wasn't to shrug off the uninvited contact.

"Who…who are you?" He mumbled, his mouth was dry and he still wasn't fully awake and free of the unhappy dream of Emily vanishing from his arms.

There was a soft, rueful chuckle and the hand lightly touching him was removed. Jason immediately regretted the loss of warmth communicated by the touch. "I thought maybe you could just tell but I suppose that was asking too much. Bad habits don't die when you do, more's the pity."

"Alan?" Jason was incredulous, first his sister and now his father.

Abruptly, he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed while Alan without making a sound or even causing the bed to shift, moved over to the window, he just stood there, an indistinct form, patiently waiting. Jason reached over and switched on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with light.

It was him all right, Alan Quartermaine. Jason hadn't been aware of the significance of his father's name after his accident. Maybe he had known before his brains got scrambled but that information was permanently sealed off in damaged nerve tissue that was never going to reveal what memories it possessed. No, as usual with such matters pertaining to information in any form, it was Spinelli who had brought it his mentor's attention. This was back in the early days of their residing together when things between them were unsettled while boundaries were still being established.

Spinelli hadn't even known Jason was considered at best a lapsed-though most definitely not a titular-Quartermaine. He found out by accident one day when he was visiting Lulu at the Quartermaine mansion. He saw a picture of Jason in his preppy days and could hardly believe his eyes. Then later when he queried Jason about his antecedents and got a grudging description of family members and their names, Spinelli became extremely excited when he first heard Jason's father's full name.

"Dude, that is so awesome. Your Dad is like named after one of the great action adventure heroes of classic lost world literature." Registering the totally blank look of irritated incomprehension which was the standard expression Jason wore with regard to the young hacker for the first six months of their acquaintance; Spinelli sighed and dashed upstairs to his room. He called back over his shoulder, "Stone Cold, the Jackal insists you remain rooted to that spot he has something to show you which will knock your proverbial socks off!"

Jason hadn't complied with Spinelli's instructions instead his roommate found him rooting around for a beer in the refrigerator as he breathlessly skidded to a stop almost knocking the brown bottle from his hand. Jason glared at him as he growled, "Watch it, Spinelli! This is the imported stuff."

"The Jackal offers fulsome apologies, Stone Cold," Spinelli was panting after his exertions and stared longingly into the refrigerator at the gleaming row of orange soda bottles just as Jason cruelly and deliberately shut the door, cutting them off from sight. "Um, well, yes," he mumbled as he valiantly tried not to take offense at the deliberately provoking action. He schooled his face the best he could into studied indifference. Spinelli was scrupulously careful to not upset Jason beyond the inevitable clashes dictated by their disparate personalities. After all, he was never quite sure how seriously Jason's flashes of ill temper were to be viewed in terms of his continued residence in the penthouse or perhaps even more grimly-on the planet itself. "So, the Jackal retrieved the novel we were speaking of beforehand." He diffidently presented the dog eared paperback to Jason as thought it were a sacrificial offering meant to appease an angry god.

"Book?" Jason couldn't remember talking about any book. He took a calculated swig from his beer before casually reaching for the proffered object. Spinelli relinquished it with a beaming smile, all his worries and doubts from a moment ago about his position in Jason's life were temporarily assuaged but he knew there would always be a next time. Jason looked down at the book held in his free hand and read the title. "'King Solomon's Mines', what's it about?" He was only marginally curious. Jason thought his old self might have read extensively for both pleasure and learning but nowadays he didn't read much more than business documents, travel books and the occasional issue of 'Motorcycle Monthly'.

"It's a classic action adventure about the search for lost lands and treasure, the prototype of that genre of literature. It takes place in Africa in the eighteen eighties and the protagonist is a fortune hunter called Allan Quatermain." He nodded as Jason's head came up sharply from his perusal of the book. "Indeed, Stone Cold, the Jackal ventures to guess that your grandfather knew exactly what he was about when he bestowed that particular moniker on his son and heir."

Jason flushed uncomfortably as the rest of the memory slowly surfaced in his sluggish mind. Back then he was annoyed with Spinelli for intruding upon his family history as though he had taken on the unasked and undesired position of mediator between Jason and his estranged relatives. To Jason, it appeared the height of arrogance to believe that he-Damian Spinelli-could somehow do what others, with more claim to act and infinitely more gravitas, had failed at, namely to reconcile Jason and his family, especially his father.

"Thanks," he'd said coldly as he deposited the book on the kitchen counter.

He brushed past a bewildered Spinelli whose expression rapidly altered from one of bafflement to complete mortification as an ugly red flush spread over his face. He stepped away from Jason's path as though he was radioactive. The closed down look of pure misery that Spinelli wore stayed with Jason through the rest of the day and was the last thing he saw that night as he closed his eyes, sleep was a long time coming.

Ironically, when he couldn't sleep he went downstairs into the kitchen to search for the book. He wanted to make amends and planned to do so by reading the novel. Besides what Spinelli had told him about it had actually intrigued Jason. Or it would have, if he hadn't been so determined on behaving like the world's biggest asshole at the time. When he reached the kitchen the counter was bare. The book was gone and not once in all the succeeding years of their residing together had Spinelli ever offered him another book to read. He referenced them and quoted from them but he never again risked being rebuffed by bringing one to Jason's attention and Jason never asked. It was all just one more example of Spinelli continuously curbing his own natural impulses and desires so as to fit into Jason's domestic world.

Still, though he was loathe to admit it, Jason's curiosity was aroused. He purchased his own copy of 'King Solomon's Mines' and after reading it couldn't help but look speculatively at both his father and grandfather. How could there be a person on the planet who possessed fewer of the character traits than Dr. Alan Quartermaine did when compared to his literary almost namesake? Jason occasionally wondered if Edward had regretted naming his infant son after such a legendary, albeit fictional, character. He also wondered with a rare spurt of empathy if sometimes Alan felt that he hadn't managed to meet any of his father's expectations, even those most simply incorporated into his name.

"Jason?" It was Alan stepping away from the window and rousing him from his reverie, "Are you all right, son? You looked like you were somewhere else there for a while." He smiled uncertainly at him, their relationship so much less solid and defined then that which existed between Jason and Emily.

Jason swallowed over the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, he was absurdly glad to see his father, his dad, almost as happy as he had been to be able spend time with Emily. "Are you the second…spirit that Alcazar mentioned would come tonight?"

He still wasn't sure if he believed in the events of this night. He was reserving judgment about whether or not they would all turn out to be some type of, as Spinelli would put it, 'entirely explicable phenomena'. So, whether this was all real and tonight was going to decide the ultimate disposition of his immortal soul or perhaps it was all just some sort of quasi-nightmare brought on by Carly's spicy empanadas would be determined by night's end. For now, Jason was simply resolved to ignore the future outcomes of these visitations and instead grab onto the opportunity to reconnect with these people whom he had lost all too soon from his life.

He had regretted (there was that word again) so strongly his failure in achieving a genuine relationship with his father. Alan had always been open, been receptive to the idea of accepting Jason back in his life and he had been patient as well, too patient. His unexpected death had sharply underscored Jason's dilatoriness in the matter. He always assumed he could get to it later because there was always something more immediate, more engrossing and more pressing to occupy his time and attention in the here and now. Meanwhile, Alan stood off to the side waiting, his hand perpetually outstretched until the devastating night of the Metro Court hostage crisis when time ran out and his benevolent heart stopped.

Jason could never forget the shock of being too late to say goodbye when Alan died at the hospital because he was out propagating another act of brutality that wouldn't fix a single thing that had come before and would certainly always come after. Jason felt the futility of his violent retaliation down to the very depths of his being because this time extracting revenge had cost him the final opportunity to finally make peace with his father. Afterward, he spoke awkwardly to the still figure on the hospital bed, making an impromptu speech about being a father himself and how the experience allowed him to view Alan in a new light. Yet, it wasn't enough, it was all too little and infinitely too late.

Jason knew Alan Quartermaine was a good man, flawed but fair and he always strove to do right by people and especially by his family. It was a long journey but Jason had finally reached the point where he was proud to be his son and maybe tonight would be his last chance to show him how he felt.

Alan nodded tentatively, his eyes wary, "Yes, they allowed me to take this assignment. I can't tell you how grateful I am to get this chance to spend some time with you Jason." His demeanor subtly altered and now there was concern in the look he was giving Jason. "This is important, what is happening here tonight, I hope you know that. Based on what you choose after you have the facts…well, it can mean your salvation."

Jason inclined his head gravely and stared down at the carpet, he couldn't bear to see the pain in Alan's eyes as he thought of never seeing his son again. "Yeah," he replied his voice husky with suppressed emotion, "That is definitely the party message being pushed tonight. See and repent or else…"

Alan smiled wryly down at the bent head of his younger son, reaching over he softly brushed his hand across his cropped hair, "Well, with that in mind, we ought to be going. For all we have to do, time is short."

Jason looked over at the clock on the bedside table, it showed a little after two a.m., "Okay," he said standing up and feeling strangely reluctant to leave the putative sanctuary of his room in exchange for further unknown encounters. "I hope you're better at this time travel stuff than Emily," he added in an attempt to regain his bravado.

Alan grinned and reaching over touched Jason lightly on his shoulder, "We'll see what your old man can do in that department."

This time Jason knew what to expect and was braced for the sensations, the disorientation, the swirling that occurred as shapes either dissolved or reformed themselves depending on if he was coming or going. Yet, there was something different about this journey. It was smoother, causing less disruption to his sense of equilibrium. Also, this time when he ended up on the terrace outside the French doors leading into the Quartermaine living room he was still standing and gratified that he didn't feel an intense desire to make his way over to the shrubbery in order to vomit. Alan was definitely the better pilot when compared to his daughter.

Regarding the actual trip, Jason had no complaints but the destination was another matter, "This is a rerun, Alan." Jason tried to be gentle in his recrimination. He thought it quite possible that his father had just become muddled as to where he was supposed to bring him. "Emily already took me to the Quartermaines."

Alan just looked at him silently, one eyebrow raised as he laid his hand on the Jason's leather jacket. He was surprisingly unfazed to find himself once again wearing his street clothes. While he couldn't decide if that was evidence for or against this experience all being a dream, he was inordinately grateful to not be facing the December cold in his bare feet and threadbare pajamas. Suddenly, Jason found himself passing effortlessly through the patio doors into a room filled with people.

He looked around, getting his bearings, absorbing the sights and sounds as he adjusted to the change in venue. The room itself wasn't much different then it appeared on his prior visit early this evening but the constituents of it were. The only three people that remained the same were Edward, Monica and Tracy though Jason could tell at a glance they were all older. He knew instinctively that this was tonight, Christmas Eve.

Mostly it was because he felt it to be so at some primal level but if pressed to give empirical cause he would have pointed to the presence of Ethan Spencer and most especially Rebecca Shaw. The newcomers hadn't been in Port Charles a year ago and while his relatives and even Nicholas might have adopted Rebecca as a surrogate for Emily, Jason certainly hadn't. They might indeed have been twins, she might or might not be a good person. It was all irrelevant to Jason. There was only one Emily, his sister and this superficial carbon copy was little more than a weak echo of the woman he had loved so deeply.

There was the standard large tree decorated with all of his grandmother's prized German crystal ornaments and sparkling with white lights. Swags of evergreens draped the mantel piece and lay across the top of both the exterior and interior sets of doors. Candles were strategically placed throughout the room producing odors that Jason couldn't identify but they reminded him of similar ones Carly had at her house. Mistletoe was hanging over the double doors from the foyer where Luke was presently wrapping his arms around a delighted Alice and kissing her with just enough sincerity to make the tray of hors d'oeuvres she was carrying at risk of tipping onto the carpet.

Alice's exuberant squeak of "Mr. Luke!" commingled with Tracy's exasperated and slightly jealous "Really, Luke, must you cavort so with the help? Alice has to tend to her duties."

Luke grinned mischievously at Tracy and after grabbing an aperitif from the righted tray sauntered over to his wife and whispered lasciviously in her ear, "I have a much _bigger_ gift in mind for you tonight, wife." Then he popped the snack into his mouth with one hand while slapping her on the rear with the other.

Tracy's outraged shriek of "Luke!" was accompanied by glowing red cheeks, sparkling eyes and a tight lipped smile as she grabbed for a glass of champagne from the buffet table.

Edward groaned and said "A little decorum if you please, there are impressionable minds here!"

Monica just muttered a half hearted "Really!" under her breath as she moved toward the fireplace where she stood staring up at a picture of Alan, unshed tears glimmering in her eyes.

"Where are these impressionable minds, Edward?" Luke asked, coming over to plop down on the sofa next to the chair the older man was occupying. "I count you, me, Tracy, Alice, Monica, Rebecca, Ethan and Lulu not a virgin among the bunch." He looked genuinely interested in what his father-in-law might add to the discussion.

Edward glared at him and growled something that sounded like "Nincompoop!"

Tracy moved next to Lulu and in an half hearted attempt at indignation, said, "Your father is completely irreverent. Look at him over there baiting poor Daddy on Christmas Eve."

Lulu laughed as she gave her stepmother an affectionate glance, "You know that's Dad's Christmas present to Edward, riling him up. It makes him feel young and a part of things. You Quartermaines wouldn't know what to do with a peaceful Christmas Eve, it's how you show you care about one another." Her expression altered becoming somber as she was lost in her own thoughts.

Tracy, with unexpected sensitivity, asked, "You miss your mother don't you?"

Lulu nodded her head trying to smile again, "I don't know why I feel this way. After all, this year she's not in Shady Brooke, just France and I'll get to see her next week for New Year's. Also, I have a wonderful new brother," she gestured toward Ethan who was trying to maneuver Rebecca under the mistletoe. "So, overall, things are pretty good in the Spencer universe."

Tracy grabbed her in a brief hug, whispering in her ear, "I love you Lulu Spencer," then immediately released her and looked awkwardly around the room to check and see if anyone had noticed her aberrant behavior.

A stunned Lulu stared at her stepmother in amazement wondering if she had hallucinated the unexpected physical intimacy. Then she quickly regained her poise, saying with a cheeky grin, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I won't tell a soul."

Tracy scoffed and tossing her head replied, "Damn right, you won't because then I would have to kill you."

The sentimental moment was mercifully cut short when Alice reentered the room, inadvertently rescuing Rebecca and discommoding Ethan, as she announced the arrival of Dominic Pirelli.

Lulu instantly abandoned Tracy to greet her special guest. Tracy rolling her eyes, called after her, "Oh, great, dating another mobster, how very original of you!"

Jason didn't understand why he was here. There didn't seem to be any particular lesson to be absorbed, it looked to him like a traditional Quartermaine holiday full of alcohol and bickering. It was certainly not something on his lists of events to regret missing with the possible exception of spending time with Monica. He looked over at the fireplace and saw without surprise that Alan was standing right next to Monica, his face pressed against hers and his right hand placed on her lower back. It was strange but it almost seemed as though Monica was leaning into her husband's ghost, her eyes were closed and she looked tired but peaceful. Jason glanced curiously over at Tracy wondering if she could see Alan tonight as she had claimed to so many other times but her attention was squarely on Lulu and Dominic as they chatted by the buffet table, a small vertical crease of concern incised between her eyes.

Alan appeared once more at Jason's side, his eyes still on Monica who was looking around the room in a dazed fashion as though she was waking from a trance which Jason surmised might not be that far from the truth. "Ready to go?" He asked, almost brusquely, his eyes lingering tenderly on his widow.

"Was this visit for my benefit or yours?" Jason couldn't help questioning his father's motives.

Alan looked at his son cryptically, his dark eyes giving nothing away. "Both maybe," was all he said, reaching out and lightly touching Jason's sleeve. "Let's go."

Colors and lights coalesced around Jason as he found his footing after a swift moment of transition. A brief shake of his head was all that was required to clear it of the effects of the trip. He glanced around trying to ascertain where they had arrived this time. He was on the tenth floor of General Hospital at the central nurse's station. The whole area was decorated with tinsel and swags of greenery. Over by the waiting area, an artificial tree stood. It was gaily strung with homemade paper decorations and strands of popcorn and cranberries, courtesy of the decorating efforts of the pediatric patients. At the base of the tree was a towering pile of brightly wrapped packages, a cornucopia of presents which ensured there would be a gift for every child in attendance this night.

Jason saw Alan wandering around the floor peering at everything with intense interest as though he had never before seen the hospital instead of spending his entire medical career working here. Jason moved through the crowded floor, his presence undetected by staff, patients or visitors. He caught up with Alan who was staring unhappily at the waiting area.

"I liked it the way it was before." He spoke without preamble, sensing Jason's presence at his shoulder. His arm swept out to encompass the soft chairs and couches all upholstered in primary colors, "It was more restful, better for people who are already anxious. This is all just too modern for my taste."

Jason had a startling revelation. It appeared his dislike of change and his conservative taste weren't the result of brain damage or merely his unique preferences but that they had been bequeathed directly to him via his father's genes.

"Yeah, mine too," he agreed wholeheartedly and the two men shared a simple smile of complicit understanding.

"People, can I have your attention please," Epiphany Jones was speaking from the nurse's station, her less than dulcet tones carrying far and wide. "It's time for the General Hospital Christmas party to begin. As is traditional, we'll start it off with a reading of the story of the first Christmas by Jasper Jax. If you'll all just follow me this way, down the hall to pediatrics…" Epiphany lead the way and everyone followed, Jason and Alan included.

The crowd entered the large, colorful pediatrics playroom. In the center of the room was the ornate chair first used by Dr. Steve Hardy, then by Alan himself and now most recently by Jasper Jax. Jax sat in the chair, a red velvet Santa cap perched at a jaunty angle on his head. He grinned over at Carly who was holding Josslyn. She smiled back at him though not with quite the full blown wattage of a patented Carly smile but Jason could see that she still loved him. Morgan stood next to her, leaning into her with all the typical trust and openheartedness of his affectionate nature. Michael was in the back of the room chatting with Kristina who was performing her first year of duties as a General Hospital Christmas Elf. She looked adorable in the green costume, all coltish legs and burgeoning curves which Michael kept surreptitiously glancing at while Kristina self consciously giggled and licked her lips.

Jason thought nostalgically of all the Port Charles girls he had watched be elves over the years. First was Robin Scorpio, then his sister Emily and Elizabeth Webber, followed more recently by the Jones sisters and Lulu Spencer. Now it appeared in the never ending cycle it was Sonny's and Alexis' daughter's turn and then soon he imagined it would be Molly and eventually Josslyn and Emma Scorpio who would don the costume for a year or two. Somehow the tradition of it all made him happy, grounded him in the community and allowed him to believe that some things were truly good, simple and worthwhile.

"Michael looks good," Alan was staring at his grandson with hungry eyes. Jason felt another pang of regret course through him as he thought of how much better off the boy's life might have been if he had been allowed to better know his paternal grandfather.

Jason nodded, physically Michael did look good and tonight, here and now in this one moment, he even looked in high spirits as he subconsciously flirted with his sister. Jason didn't know how he felt about that particular budding connection but he knew that neither Sonny nor Alexis would be pleased at the idea of them becoming involved.

"He's had a lot to deal with since waking up from the coma. It's been rough on him, on Carly, Sonny, all of us really." He liked being able to voice his concerns, his doubts to someone besides Sam. It grew wearisome always having to hide one's misgivings and fears, always being the one others look to for guidance and solutions to problems while his own worries and problems went unshared.

Alan placed a consoling hand on Jason's shoulder, "I know you love Michael very much and always try to do the best you can by him, son. Yet, you're old enough and have experienced the vicissitudes of life so that you must realize that sometimes our best intentions aren't always sufficient. We all make mistakes. After all, that is what being human means. Our children aren't perfect either and their choices are sometimes harmful ones. When it comes right down to it all we can really do is be there for them and let them know we love them."

Jason's eye's prickled with sudden moisture at his father's speech. He knew they weren't talking about Michael anymore. "I realize now that is what you did for me and for AJ even when we didn't deserve it. I am grateful beyond words that you kept loving and believing in me though I had given you every cause to hate me."

Alan smiled at his son, his eyes suspiciously bright. "If you recall, I wasn't always so understanding of your choices and your actions. Sometimes I was quite a bastard toward you. Still, I could never hate you, Jason. You're my son and I love you and am proud of the man you became." Alan looked over Jason's shoulder his focus elsewhere as his gaze sharpened, "Is that my other grandson?" He asked quietly, his voice thick with suppressed emotion.

Jason turned around to see what Alan was talking about. He saw Robin and Patrick coming in with Matt Hunter, Emma was in her Daddy's arms, her eyes bright and alert as she took in the stimulating sights and sounds around her. Next to the Scorpio-Drakes were Elizabeth and Lucky with Jake being carried by Lucky while Cameron held Elizabeth's hand. Jason felt the usual clutch of love and longing which gripped his heart whenever he saw his unclaimed child in the caring arms of another. He knew he had made the decision to allow Lucky to raise his son and he still believed it to be the right choice. Still, every time he laid eyes on Jake and saw how big he was getting or the new words and skills he had learned, he felt swamped by an all pervading misery because he would never be an acknowledged part of his own son's life.

"How do you know about Jake?" Monica didn't know, none of the Quartermaines-except possibly Emily-had known, so how could Alan?

His father smiled, his eyes never leaving the little tow headed boy who was now down on the floor and following his brother as they found a place to sit that was up front and close to Jax. "Well, even if I didn't know I would have to be blind not to suspect it. Jake is the spitting image of you at that age. Don't you remember, you told me about him?"

Jason was puzzled, "I never…except that time…but…you were…" It was absurd that he couldn't say the word. It certainly wasn't a condition that could be altered and he was pretty sure his father knew he was dead but still Jason couldn't get his mouth to form the single harsh syllable.

Alan looked amused, "Yes, I was," he said nonchalantly, "But you came back right after it happened and I was still there. I heard you talk about Jake and about your decision to not claim him and how we finally had fatherhood in common. It made me very happy to hear it and now I am even more delighted to get to see young Jacob Martin." He was beaming with unfeigned joy as he looked over at the little boy and his brother. Jason felt a constriction of his heart that he didn't quite know how to quantify.

Epiphany stepped in front of the restless and chattering children and their parents and simply by imperiously raised her hand managed to command instantaneous silence. Jax began reading the age old tale of a poor couple and their donkey seeking shelter where there was none to be had. Jason and Alan stood in companionable silence for a few moments listening, both their gazes fixed on a small bright head at the front of the spellbound group of children.

Eventually, Alan stirred and said, "I've heard it before and time is passing."

He reached out for Jason who said stoutly, "You read it better anyway," as the by now familiar spinning sensation overtook him.

Jason was perplexed to find himself standing in Carly and Jax's living room. They had just seen the couple at the hospital Christmas party and Jason had been at their house afterward to give his gifts to the children and visit for a while as was his Christmas Eve tradition. He looked inquisitively around the empty room. It was evidently later the same evening, dirty plates and glasses were scattered around on tables and newly opened toys and other gifts lay abandoned on the couch, by the television and under the tree.

He turned to Alan, saying, "Why are we here?"

The words were barely uttered when the silence of the house was shattered by the slamming of the front door. Michael strode into the room, angrily shrugging out of his jacket, followed closely by an irate Jax, gripping a set of car keys in his left hand.

Carly came running down the stairs relief and anger clearly written on her face. "Where have you been, Michael?" She demanded, "Jax and I were worried sick!"

"Out," he replied sullenly, flopping bonelessly down on the couch, every muscle of his body silently communicating his outrage over being unwillingly dragged home by his stepfather. He reached over to the coffee table and turned on the television. There was some action movie on with lots of helicopters flying around and guns being fired.

"Turn that off!" Carly hissed at him, plainly furious. She stood between him and the television set, her hands on her hips, "You'll wake up the baby and Morgan."

Michael shrugged as he reluctantly pushed the power button and the sound faded away. "It wouldn't be a problem if you had just let me stay out. I was having fun. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Michael," It was Jax speaking as he tried to maintain even tones, an aura of reasonableness against teenage rebellion. "You're not an adult yet and if you don't want to be treated like a child then don't act like one by sneaking out in the middle of the night and worrying your mother. Trust and respect are two way streets."

Jason hated that Jax was speaking to Michael this way and he disliked it even more that he endorsed every word coming out of the smug Australian's mouth. He could feel Alan's concerned eyes on him as he stood there poised and tense wishing there was some way he could step forward and intervene. He desperately wanted to defuse the situation and calm both Carly and Michael down. That was his role, his job in their lives and it frustrated him that he could only stand here and listen-a helpless bystander-instead of shaping events and fixing things.

"Yeah, right," Michael sneered and Jason's lips curled up in a grim smile of approbation. That was his boy, he didn't take guff from anyone. "You're all grown up and mature the way you lied to Mom for months about Claudia's and Jerry's involvement in my shooting. You don't get to preach at me."

Carly's eyes flickered over to Jax as Michael made his rebuttal. Her face was briefly angry but then she made a conscious effort to smooth it out as she returned her attention to Michael. Jax didn't say anything in response to Michael's accusations though his jaw tightened briefly and he sent his own glance toward Carly, his eyes full of repentant misery. Jason actually felt a frisson of respect for Jax as he refrained from saying anything in his defense. Then again, what could he possibly say to counteract the accusation? Everything Michael had said was the truth.

"Michael," Carly's voice was level and Jason tried to remember when it was that his best friend had developed this patina of maturity over her fundamental spitfire personality. He knew that Carly would do whatever she had to in order to help her children, even if that meant being an authentic grownup and he silently applauded her for her restraint. "You're old enough to know that adults make mistakes. I do, Jax does, even Jason does…" She paused for a moment to let the radical idea sink into her son's mind. Michael's eyes momentarily widened and then his mouth set in a tight line as he refused to let his mother's assertion impact his untarnished regard for his uncle, "And your father absolutely does. You're young and maybe you can't see it but you've certainly benefited from people protecting you when you make mistakes. Maybe you wouldn't be so cocky if we had let you face some of the consequences of your choices." Her eyes were tormented as she spoke but her face was calmly stern.

Jason knew what it cost Carly to even intimate the notion of letting Michael face the penalty of killing Claudia, especially since he had done it in order to save her and his sister. In addition, Claudia was also the cause of Michael almost dying and losing a year of his life to a coma. Yet, Jason realized as did Carly that ultimately the issue wasn't about Claudia's death and the associated legal outcomes. Instead, it was about reaching Michael, about salvaging his conscience before it was too late and he potentially ceased to possess one or at least acknowledge it. Jason was aware from bitter personal experience that when certain taboos were broken the journey to losing your soul was a fast, painful downhill tumble and, as tonight was proving, the return trip seemed akin to trying to scale Mount Everest.

Michael listened to his mother, heard her out with an icy courtesy before he replied. "It sounds good in theory," he began thoughtfully, "That I should face the music for what I have done, for killing Claudia." He deliberately named the elephant in the room as Carly's face drained of blood and Jax winced.

Hearing Michael's words, Jason felt a cold knot of despair form in his stomach and he had to steel himself to not shake off the comforting hand Alan placed on his shoulder. Still, he was determined to not allow his body or mind to take any succor from his father. He was fully responsible for Carly's current anguish and Michal's chilling insouciance about killing. This situation was entirely his fault and it all stemmed back to the very beginning when Carly first entrusted him with an infant Michael. He had succeeded in keeping the baby safe and warm for a while but every choice, every action, every decision since those early halcyon days had been a gigantic failure on his part. The end result had been to lead him inevitably down an ever twisting path which culminated tonight in his invisibly watching this fraught family encounter.

"Still," Michael's voice was mild but his body posture was rigid and his blue eyes narrowed as he looked speculatively at his mother.

Jason suddenly recalled with an unpleasant jolt how AJ would look exactly like that right before intentionally verbally ripping someone to shreds. He opened his mouth even though Alan's hand pressed warningly on his shoulder and before he could stop himself, "Michael," spilled from his lips as he tried to stop the pain, the anger that the boy was intent on causing.

Naturally, it was an irrelevant act, Jason could have yelled his cautions and they would have passed unheard and unheeded. Angry at his inability to affect the situation, he stood on the sidelines, mute and ineffectual, his fists clenched in a worthless effort to dissipate his self-loathing.

"I haven't ever seen my father or Jason face the consequences of what they do. They do exactly what they want, when they want and if someone gets in their way or dares to question them, they simply 'disappear'." Using his fingers, Michael made insolent air quotes around the final word. "So, if you ask me, the decision to live like that or to be some frightened nobody always worrying about breaking the rules, it's an easy one." He smiled lazily up at his mother, his eyes hooded and the only part of his body that indicated he was feeling at all tense was the mindless staccato tapping of his left foot on the stone floor.

"You know absolutely nothing about it." Carly bit off every syllable, her voice rigid with self control and only her eyes revealing how petrified she felt at the thought of losing her first born son to the dangerous and murky world Jason and Sonny inhabited. "You're just a little egotistical boy playing a game you don't even begin to understand. It's a game that gets people killed-you or maybe Morgan-if you make the wrong choice."

Michael's face darkened at Carly's harsh words and tone of voice. He scowled up at her, "I agreed to live here but I can always go back to Dad's house. He understands me, he knows how I feel. He'll teach me how to succeed in the business. I would never, ever put Morgan into any kind of danger. I would always protect him, protect my family _that's _what Jason and he do and you are sure quick enough to take them up on it when it's something you need. Then you somehow conveniently overlook all the laws they break, all the harm and killing. You go and visit Jason in the police station and tell him how you'll stand by him no matter what." Michael had risen up from the couch and was standing in front of his mother. His voice grew increasingly louder until he was shouting at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly in agitation.

"That's enough, Michael!" Jax spoke quietly but with a deadly intensity that cut through Michael's fury and silenced him.

Jason stepped forward as well, knocking Alan's restraining hand from his shoulder. He stood next to Carly wishing he could wrap his arms around her and comfort her as she faced down her defiant son. She looked lost and woebegone while unacknowledged tears of grief trailed down her pale cheeks.

"Michael," she pleaded with him, her hand outstretched as she tried to stroke his face, to reconnect with the little trusting boy he had once been. Michael resolutely stepped back from Carly's caress, his face set in unforgiving planes. A wailing cry erupted from the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table, breaking the oppressive silence that had descended upon the room.

Jax started for the stairs, casting a worried look toward mother and son. "I'll take care of her and be right back down," he promised.

Michael spun around and grabbing his discarded jacket from the couch headed once more for the front door not listening to Carly's shout of "Michael Corinthos, you come back here this instant!" Her only answer was the reverberations from the slamming of the door.

Carly collapsed sobbing on the foot of the steps, her face in her hands and her blond hair further curtaining her from view she swayed back in forth in grief while Jason stood next to her helpless to console her.

"Mom?" The voice was small and faltering. Morgan had come silently down the stairs and was sitting one riser up from her. "Are you okay? Did something happen to Michael?"

Carly raised her tear streaked face from her hands and gave her younger son a watery smile. "Michael's fine sweetie, he's just a teenager and impossible to live with, that's all."

"He's not going to spoil Christmas is he?" Morgan asked, "It's Josslyn's first one."

Carly genuinely laughed then as she gathered her kind hearted son up into her arms and hugged him while Jason looked on, his heart full. Alan discreetly dabbed at the corner of his eyes with a crisp white handkerchief. "No, nobody's going to spoil Josslyn's first Christmas. You'll see, Michael will be back and we'll all have a great day tomorrow."

"Promise?" Morgan said, his voice muffled in his mother's embrace.

"Promise," Jax said coming down the stairs with Josslyn in his arms, "We'll be one big happy family."

"Well," Morgan looked up at his stepfather with a playful gleam in his eyes, "That will be a pretty amazing feat since I think that might the first time ever that would have happened in this crazy family."

"Morgan!" Carly thwacked him with mock outrage as she reached up for her infant daughter Jax laughed at his stepson and ruffling his hair sat down on the stairs with the rest of his family.

Now that everything was at least temporarily resolved with Carly and Morgan, Jason began to purposefully move toward the front door, intent on following Michael. "Where do you think you're going?" It was Alan, standing in front of him and blocking his way.

Jason answered impatiently, not understanding why Alan even needed to ask such a question, it was obvious where, "To find Michael. He needs my help."

Alan shook his head, his expression apologetic but adamant, "It's not possible, Jason. Time's running out and we've got one more stop to make." As he finished speaking he reached out for Jason who tried to twist away from him but his father grasped the sleeve of his jacket and once again the world around them shimmered and fell away.

Jason looked around the familiar living room of the penthouse and glared irritably at his father, "This is why you stopped me going after Michael, so we could get home a little early?"

"Jason," Alan sighed, trying to hold onto his patience as he suddenly recollected how difficult it was to get his bullheaded son to do something else when his mind was focused on a specific goal. "Michael will be fine, I promise you. He's not the only person in your life that is currently dealing with problems."

Jason just stared at his father, still upset at not being allowed to follow Michael and not interested in interpreting his oblique comments. "What do you mean?" He asked him bluntly, "Who else are you talking about?"

As though on cue, Spinelli came wandering in from the kitchen a bottle of vodka clutched to his chest as he muttered something indecipherable under his breath. He settled down on the couch and picking up the television remote aimed it at the screen. 'It's a Wonderful Life' popped obediently up and Spinelli looked intently down at the bottle of clear liquid nestled in his arms. "What shall it be little one?" he spoke affectionately to the container of alcohol lying quiescently in his lap. "I know, how about we go with a combo effect, one swallow for every time someone talks about angels getting their wings and then also one for whenever anyone says George…No," he closed his eyes for a moment concentrating, "No, they have to say George Bailey, _that_ should make it a tad more challenging but still perfectly acceptable. You like that idea don't you?" He was running his fingers up and down the bottle, preparatory to removing its screw cap.

Alan's head was cocked as he stared with speculation at Spinelli, "Does he drink often?"

Jason's fingers itched to grab the bottle away from his roommate and to yell at him for good measure. He looked around him realizing that he was in his own home and it was actually at some point in the current time frame represented by this endless night rather than in some town in Tennessee, years ago. Therefore, maybe this particular attempt at prevention would be successful. He took a step toward Spinelli but once again his father was there before him, standing by the couch and shaking his head.

"Jason, haven't you figured out yet that this isn't how it works. You can't change what you see with me or Emily but only with…" he didn't finish the sentence, leaving the unfinished thought to dangle uneasily between the two men. "Does he drink a lot?" Alan restated the question, intent on getting an answer.

Jason sighed and stepping back from the couch ran his fingers through his hair. "No, not usually at least I don't think so…" he thought about it for a moment before slowly continuing, "He constantly drinks orange soda, I try to get him to switch it out with water but he's pretty resistant. But when things are bad, when Georgie died or Maxie dumped him, he goes for the bottle."

"Huzzah!" Spinelli jumped up from the couch, someone had just said George Bailey's name. He tipped his head back and took a long swig from the vodka bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat back on the couch, his right hand tightly clenched around the neck of the bottle as he intently watched the movie, braced for another excuse to drink.

Alan stared hard at Jason, forcing him to look away from Spinelli, "You do recognize the signs of dependency don't you?" His tone was direct, the words inescapable.

"No," Jason wouldn't follow Alan down the path he wanted him to travel. "Spinelli's not an alcoholic. He just drinks a little too much when he gets depressed or can't handle things. A lot of people do the same." He wouldn't meet Alan's eyes, his words sounding hollow and defensive to his own ears.

"Jason," Alan was insistent, not allowing him the option of avoiding this discussion, "You come from a family full of addicts-Emily, AJ, your mother and me… It doesn't help anyone to pretend otherwise, least of all the person who has the problem."

"He doesn't have a problem," Jason said stubbornly, "He goes months without having any alcohol. It's just at certain times he gets like this." He cringed as Spinelli let out a loud whoop and again surged up off the sofa, this time vodka splashed onto the coffee table as he partially missed his mouth.

"Do you know what set him off tonight?" Alan asked, his eyes curious as he glanced at Jason.

Jason's face flushed as he remembered how he had rebuffed Spinelli's offer to watch a movie with him earlier this evening. "It's the holidays, he's missing Maxie, I was in a bad mood tonight when I got home from Carly's house." Jason's abrupt tone invited Alan to take his pick.

Alan sighed and looked over at Spinelli as he tried once again to breach Jason's denial, "He may not have a typical addictive personality but there are all kinds of addicts in the world. Spinelli seems to be a nice young man but not very confident in himself and when his fragile self-esteem is shaken it appears he turns to alcohol to bolster it."

Jason shrugged, unwilling to either agree with or argue with his father. It was clear from his shuttered facial expression that as far as he was concerned the subject was closed. Yet, he couldn't help staring at Spinelli who was once again imbibing from the vodka bottle, this time he stayed seated on the couch and his eyes were beginning to look glazed.

"Son," Alan was staring directly into Jason's eyes, an understanding smile on his face, "I know tonight is hard for you. You've seen things you would rather not but the point of it all is to make things better for you, for them," he waved toward Spinelli, who was lolling back on the couch, his eyes only half slits as he awaited his next drinking prompt, "If there is anyone who has the strength of character to change his life for the better, it's you, Jason. I have every confidence in you. Now, it's time to return."

For the final time Alan reached over and clasped Jason's shoulder even as his son protested, "It's only upstairs, can't we just walk?" Reasonable sounding as it was, Jason's request wasn't granted and he resigned himself to being whirled through space up to his bedroom ten feet above from where he had just been standing.

Left behind on the couch, Spinelli sat up trying to focus on the television screen. This was an important segment in the movie and he needed all his wits about him. It was almost time for Nick the bartender to start opening and closing the register and ringing the bell. "We can do thish," he owlishly assured the long-suffering bottle whose liquid level had declined substantially from what it had been only a short while ago. Blearily he blinked waiting for the famous line, "Get me, I'm givin' out wings!" Then in an uncoordinated move he once again raised the bottle to his lips for a long swallow, his Adam's apple jerking repetitively as he swallowed.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


	5. Three in the Morning

A/N: Well I am a little behind the posting curve on this tale but the good news is that my excuse is entirely endorsed by Mr. Dickens himself. I was indulging in the good cheer of the season by visiting with family and friends. Also, even GH took a break for the last part of the week. So, all in all, I am in good company with my source material and while I emulated them I do realize that doesn't mean I have any rights to either of them.

Three in the Morning

"Hey, Tiger, wakey-wakey. It's time to get up and at 'em." The voice was sultry, the hand stroking his face slim and delicate. There was a distinctive musky perfume in the air that his olfactory nerves had obediently transmitted to Jason' cerebrum which even now was trying to decipher why it smelled so unpleasantly familiar.

He swatted petulantly at the hand, and mumbled, "Leave me alone, want to sleep."

His visitor responded with a throaty laugh, "Still a charmer I see. I don't understand why such a catch as you would ever be sleeping alone. Sam dump you again?"

The question was laced with venom, and Jason was finally fully awake. "Claudia!" He growled furiously as he abruptly sat up reaching for the bedside lamp to see with his eyes what every sense had been communicating to his incredulous brain for the last ninety seconds. 'Where's Alan?" He mumbled suspiciously, searching the room but Alan was nowhere to be seen. The last memory he had was of his father delivering him back to his bedroom from the living room below.

Alan had stared at him pensively for a long moment and then smiled as he reached up to stroke his youngest son's cheek. "I have faith in you, Jason. I know I will see you again."

Jason belatedly realized that was his father's way of saying goodbye. "Wait!" He was desperate to prevent his departure. He couldn't believe all the time he had wasted in treating Alan as irrelevant in his life, in refusing to have a relationship with him. Now, just when he had found him again, he was leaving. "Don't go," he pleaded reaching for him, trying to touch him, hold him, maybe even hug him but his fingers clutched at empty air. Jason shook his head as he attempted to force his thoughts away from the undesired ending of his insufficient reunion with his father toward his stunned disbelief at the unsolicited presence of a hell cat in his inner sanctum.

Yet, there was no denying that his newest guide was Claudia Zacchara all right. She was sitting on his bed grinning at him, her lips a bright slash of scarlet across her face. She was dressed in a skin tight black leather miniskirt, black fishnet stockings, red stiletto heeled open toed shoes and a zipped up leopard skin jacket.

Jason scrubbed at his sleep deprived eyes, "Still dressing like a whore, eh, Claudia? Your style sense must be the perfect fit down in hell."

She flushed crossly and glared at him, "Sorry, to disappoint but we're here to decide _what _your change of address cards ought to read, me not so much." She graced him with a crooked smile, her eyes gleaming triumphantly.

Jason gaped at her, "Are you telling me that…" He couldn't even finish such an unpalatable thought.

"Yep," she cocked her head and flipped her long, lustrous, dark hair back over her shoulder as satisfaction exuded from her in waves. "It didn't quite turn out for me the way you and all the other members of the 'Hate Claudia Club' in this one horse town predicted. All I can say is from where I sit, it's a good thing it wasn't your call." She almost cackled at Jason's stupefied expression.

"You…you mean that you, they sent _you_…" He was unable to say the word and instead just pointed weakly toward the ceiling.

She gave a little snicker and shook her head, "Not exactly there yet but I am on the waiting list, paying my dues and biding my time. This is one of the chores I have to do in order to attain redemption."

Jason narrowed his eyes, "You get Michael shot and you're allowed a shot at redemption?" He felt very much like having a word with whoever was in charge of such a misguided system of divine justice while entirely ignoring the fact that tonight was all about determining how that selfsame system would judge his deeds.

Claudia matched him scowl for scowl. "Well, let's just do a little math, okay? First, I felt horrible about Michael's shooting. What you have always failed to comprehend is that I had no idea Sonny would be stupid enough to ever place his son in such a vulnerable position. Yet, somehow his guilt in this whole thing is washed away by a few half hearted mea culpas and a whole lot of scotch. Second, if I had known Ian Devlin would have been so reckless as to take a shot with a child in the room, I would have shot him myself. Then again, I admit that when I lost my baby, I blamed Michael and yes, I sent Jerry Jax after them and you. I regret that choice." Here she paused and gave Jason a twisted smile, "Not the part where he shot you though. I just wish that bullet had found its intended mark because then of all of this tonight would be unnecessary. As for the rest of it, I was grieving and not exactly in my right mind."

Jason couldn't believe her audacity as she defended her actions, "So that makes it all okay than?" He asked her incredulously, "You just blame everyone else and none of it's on you?"

She sighed, "You don't have to be so melodramatic, Jason. No, I am not excusing my behavior or decisions just pointing out that other people share the blame and Michael isn't exactly guilt free himself you know."

Jason stiffened beside her as he ground out, "You leave Michael out of it."

"Or you'll what, Jason? Kill me?" She actually laughed making Jason feel as though he wanted to do nothing more than wrap his hands around her slender neck and choke the non-existent life out of her. "I helped Carly deliver her daughter," she pointed out, "Without me that baby, and maybe Carly too, would have died."

"You kidnapped Carly, that's why they were at risk in the first place," Jason countered testily.

She waved her hand airily, "You say tomatoe and I say tomatetoe. I abducted her because Sonny was going to have me killed, my survival instinct kicked in."

"After you 'helped' deliver Josslyn, you tried to snatch her from Carly." He wasn't interested in her rationalizations. Jason had his own unanswerable viewpoint on Claudia's monstrous choices.

"Well, then along came Mikey with an axe and took me out of the picture permanently. He actually did what I never did, he killed someone. He's just like his Daddy and his beloved Uncle Jason. Let's not forget whose soul is under the dissecting microscope tonight and it's not mine, that's for sure. Who knows, maybe in another twenty or thirty years, I might be making a preliminary visit to Michael just like Lorenzo Alcazar did for you tonight. Wouldn't that be cozy?"

Something inside Jason snapped at Claudia's casual mention of the unthinkable idea of Michael ending up in Jason's current predicament. He lunged for her, his thirst for vengeance overriding his more analytical brain which, if he had permitted it to, would have told him it was a squandered effort.

He ended up sprawled on the floor, face down on the carpet. Rug burns stung his hands which were already abraded from earlier in the evening when he had tried to stop Spinelli from smoking a joint.

Claudia's red shod foot came into his line of sight, tapping impatiently on the rug. "Are you through?" She asked in a bored tone, "Lots to do and see and not so much time. It's your soul, your decision, tick-tock, tick-tock."

"I'm not going anywhere with you, bitch." Jason said with an icy flatness, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Claudia tilted her head and chewed absentmindedly on her bottom lip as she stared at him. It was a mannerism he recollected from when she was alive, something she did whenever she was scheming her way into or out of a situation. He felt his deep seated revulsion toward her flare up, creating a hot and acrid sensation in his gut.

"Well, that's just too bad," she said finally, her mind apparently made up, "This isn't just about you, my future is also impacted by how well I handle this mission."

Before Jason could ascertain what she intended to do and move away from her, Claudia reached down and grasped his forearm. Her grip was iron-clad and even as he twisted in a fruitless attempt to break free, the room began to dip and swirl around him, the sensation entirely too familiar, his stomach dropping as together they dissolved into space.

For the third time this night, Jason found himself on the flagstone patio outside the French doors of the Quartermaine living room. As they arrived, Claudia unceremoniously released her hold on him and the momentum of their inter-dimensional flight sent him staggering into the patio furniture which was all too solid in this reality whenever it might be. Jason rammed into the glass topped table with enough force to bruise his hip bone. He grabbed onto a nearby chair as he fought against the incipient nausea this trip had caused, his thigh ached and he felt chilled. Looking down at himself he realized he was still in his sleep pants and t-shirt and his feet were bare.

"What the fuck?" He practically snarled as he turned toward an entirely unconcerned and unruffled Claudia who was standing by the patio doors idly examining her crimson nails. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere with you!"

"Wah, wah!" She waved her hand dismissively as she glared right back at Jason, not in the least fazed by his ferocious temper. "You aren't calling the shots here tonight, Jason. Something much bigger and more powerful then you or me is in control and it's time you stopped whining like a little girl and shut up so that you can learn your lesson. Personally, I hope you end up frying in hell but I am _not_ going to risk screwing my own chances for getting out of my currently less than ideal living situation for some tired old vendetta that won't help anyone. It's a concept you would do well to mull over. Now, I'm tired of talking about this, let's get started."

With that she walked toward the double French doors and waving her hands in front of her blew them outward, they hit against the exterior walls with a mighty crash which caused Jason to wince. He followed her back into the room he had already visited twice before this evening and found it completely lacking in its earlier celebratory fervor. The occupants were oblivious to the entry of the intruders. Jason was no longer surprised by a total lack of reaction to his and his companion's arrival. Even Claudia's petulant behavior as she caused the doors to violently fling open went unperceived by the few occupants of the living room. Monica, Tracy and Big Alice sat in a morose silence, the room was poorly lit and there wasn't a decoration to be seen anywhere.

"Does anyone want anything to eat?" Alice was speaking in a subdued tone, "I could see if Cook could rustle up something."

Tracy didn't bother to respond to the maid's tentative inquiry. She just tilted her head back and took a large swallow of some amber liquor from a cut class highball glass clutched tightly in her hand.

Monica roused herself from a pensive contemplation of her folded hands lying demurely in her lap. "No, thanks, Alice," she replied with a small, tight smile, "I'm not hungry and it appears that Tracy is opting for a liquid diet as a way to celebrate the holidays."

"Well, you'd be drinking too if your husband had just run off with his younger son to have some adventure in Outer Mongolia or wherever, leaving me high and dry for the holidays." Tracy stared balefully at her sister-in-law, her voice petulant.

"Well, at least you know that Luke is alive and that he'll be coming back to you, though Heaven knows, I never understand why." Monica retorted tartly, her demeanor entirely devoid of sympathy.

"Dr. Quartermaine," Alice tried again, "You really need to eat something, you're fading away."

Monica just flapped her hand impatiently as she abruptly arose from the couch and walked over to the mantelpiece. She stood there staring at a cluster of pictures featuring Alan, Emily, AJ, Edward and Jason himself. "It's pointless trying to pretend," she spoke with a deep sense of melancholy, "There's nothing to celebrate. I've lost everyone I ever cared about."

Jason looked at his mother and saw that what Alice had said was the literal truth. Monica had always been slender but now she looked positively emaciated. Her eyes were sunken within their sockets and there were deep lines incised on either side of her mouth. She looked exhausted, beaten down by all the vicissitudes of life. Jason took an instinctive step toward her but as he came close to the fireplace, Tracy brushed impatiently by him.

"Monica, stop brooding, it isn't healthy. I miss Daddy and Alan too you know." She was standing awkwardly next to her sister-in-law, concern etched on her face. "Look, let's do what Alice suggested. Let's all of us go into the kitchen and sit down with Cook and have some sort of a meal and just enjoy the night and be grateful we're together. What do you say?" Her eyes were beseeching as she held a tentative hand out toward Monica who, with a resigned sigh, accepted it.

As they walked together out of the room, trailed by Alice, Monica was speaking wearily, "How is it Tracy that every time I am ready to kick you out of this house you do something so entirely kind and out of character that I find myself forgiving you for the umpteenth time?"

"Just my innate charm, I guess," Tracy's throaty laugh drifted back toward them as Claudia, forgotten until now by Jason, stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. The room around them vanished in a spinning eddy of shapes and color.

He was dizzy, there was something about Claudia's transports that were different then how it had been with either Alan or Emily. Jason would like to be simplistic and lay it all at the door of his antipathy for her; the idea that she was evil incarnate and so even traveling through time with her was a disorienting experience. Yet, deep down inside, he felt that it was something outside the two of them, more to do with time itself. This was the future, he had discerned that much from their visit to the Quartermaines and so far it didn't appear to be a very happy one.

He was leaning against a wall, waiting for his inner ear to recover from the trauma of a temporal space dislocation or some other stupid science fiction term with which he was sure Spinelli would have dubbed the experience. When he felt reasonably sure that he could move without either keeling over or vomiting, he warily turned his head to survey his surroundings.

"Carly's," he said immediately recognizing that he was back in her living room for his second visit of the night.

"Wow, pure genius!" Claudia came in from the direction of the kitchen, an apple in her hand, "You aren't just a dumb killing machine after all. I'm so impressed."

Jason glowered at her but he didn't say anything, the less he and Claudia talked was the preferred course of action from his perspective. He looked around the living room, it was devoid of people but even more disturbing was the total absence of any seasonal décor. That just wasn't right. Carly adored Christmas, she decorated everything that didn't move and even a few things that did like the year she tried to strap some mistletoe onto a stick over Jason's head. He grinned to himself at the memory though at the time he had been furious with her. One of the many things he loved about Carly was her extravagance, her tendency to go overboard in all things including the holidays, which made this lack of ornamentation even more bizarre.

He hated the idea of asking Claudia for anything but the empty room was beginning to make him uncomfortable. It was as impersonal as a deserted stage setting that needed the charisma and energy of the actors to bring the drama to life. "Where's every…" he had started to ask his guide when Carly herself appeared at the top of the stairs.

She looked terrible, her hair was a tangled mess, she was thin and her face was gray and drawn with deep shadows under her eyes indicating a prolonged lack of sleep. An image of Monica flashed across his mind; they could be twins in their despair and palpable grief he thought.

Jason couldn't help himself, he knew better but this was Carly and he stepped forward intent on catching her elbow as she reached the bottom of the staircase and staggered a bit before grasping at the banister for support. His hand clutched nothing but useless air and he cursed as he stood face to face with this woman whom he loved so much and yet in this moment could do nothing to help her.

"Tsk, tsk," Claudia bit down on her apple with a loud crunch and not for the first time that night did Jason wonder at these places and times he was traveling to where the people were insubstantial wraths while the physical environment was real and concrete. "Didn't you learn anything with that hopelessly sentimental father of yours and goody two shoes Emily?" She rebuked him, her mouth full of apple as she chewed with gusto. "Rules, you like rules don't you, Jason? Well, they're very simple, look all you want but you don't get to touch."

He was pivoting on his heel, Carly forgotten as he attacked Claudia, his enmity for her overriding everything else including his concern for his friend. She stepped back with an insulting casualness. His unthinking fury made him easy to avoid and as he stumbled through yielding air for the countless time this night she delicately extended one red clad foot and tripped him. He fell clumsily to the floor and skidded on the highly polished marble floor of the foyer crashing into a huge blue and white ceramic pot containing a large palm tree that was sitting by the front door.

"Now that wasn't a very nice way to treat your designated guide for the evening." Claudia finished the apple and tossed the core carelessly onto the floor where it lay in the shadow of the staircase. "I doubt it will get you any brownie points with the people scoring this little exercise. I'm just being straight with you, Jason. After all, it's not my future damnation on the line here tonight." Claudia was entirely untroubled by his attempted attack, she actually seemed pleased in some odd way.

Jason lay stunned by the potted palm which he had cracked his head against, his eyes were watering. He gingerly felt his forehead, it wasn't bleeding but he knew he had hit hard enough to raise a lump. The plant and its container were entirely unaffected by his onslaught. He grimaced as he rubbed his head and looked up at Claudia, his eyes blazing with unrepentant hate. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He accused her, "You want me to fail, to go to hell. Well, if I get to take you with me then it would all be worth it…" Even Jason knew what he was saying was idiotic as he slowly pulled himself to his feet, swaying with dizziness and the onset of a brutal headache.

"Hey," Claudia raised her hands palms up, in the universal gesture of surrender. "I am not the one messing this up. You can't affect anything about what happens in my case, Jason, as long as I make a good faith effort here. I am not the one who keeps trying to murder a ghost, FYI."

Jason just grunted, he looked past Claudia at Carly. She was sitting listlessly on the couch staring vacantly off into space. He realized that not only weren't there any Christmas decorations, it also appeared that Carly was utterly alone-no Jax, Michael, Morgan or Josslyn. Jason didn't want to contemplate how bad things must be in her life for her to be separated from her family, her children on Christmas Eve.

The doorbell rang and Carly jumped, startled. For a brief moment she didn't move, she just stared at the door a haunted expression on her face as though she knew whoever was on the other side must be bringing her bad news.

"Carly! It's me, open up!" Jason instantly recognized Sonny's voice.

Carly reluctantly stood up and taking a deep breath as though to fortify herself made her slow way toward the front door. She paused to look at herself in the mirror hanging in the vestibule next to the very palm into which Jason had so recently crashed. She ran her fingers ineffectually through her snarled hair and tugged at her sweater, she smiled without humor at her disheveled reflection. "Some beautiful specimen you are," she breathed sadly at the other Carly who could only reproduce her misery without alleviating it in any way.

"Carly!" It was an ill restrained roar as the door vibrated under Sonny's determined fists.

"Hold your horses!" Carly muttered under her breath, the barest spark of her hallmark fire briefly flaring. "What is it Sonny?" She greeted her ex-husband with exasperation as she unceremoniously yanked open the door and caught him in the middle of once again raising his hand to pound against the elegant wooden panels.

Sonny stared at her wide-eyed as relief and anger vied for dominance on his face. He moved toward her and embraced her, holding her in a crushing grip as he breathed into her hair, "I was so worried about you."

Carly allowed him to hold her for a moment, though her body was rigid and her arms remained steadfastly at her sides as she refused to reciprocate the hug. When she had enough she reached up and placing both hands squarely on Sonny's chest gently but firmly pushed him away from her.

"Why were you worried about me, Sonny?" She asked him flatly, "As you can see, I'm fine."

Sonny's eyes were warm and compassionate as he stared at her, reaching a hand up he tenderly pushed a lackluster strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, you look great," he said sardonically, attempting to mask his concern, "I have been trying to call you all evening. Morgan said you were on your own. I just wanted to know if you wanted some company. It must be strange for you to be by yourself with Morgan spending the holiday skiing with Alexis, Kristina and Molly and Josslyn with Jax in Australia this year."

There was one name missing from Sonny's recitation and as Jason looked at both his friends he saw the identical pain clouding their eyes. Sonny didn't look quite as wrung out and faded as Carly did but he definitely looked older, there were grey strands showing in his thinning black hair and the black pouches under his eyes were a fair match for Carly's.

Claudia had moved closer to the couple and she was looking at Sonny with an intensity tinged with a softer emotion that Jason would have termed as compassion if it had originated from anyone other than Claudia Zacchara. "He looks tired," she said softly, her hand rising of its own accord as though she was going to stroke Sonny's cheek.

Jason watched with a peculiar admixture of unwanted empathy and cruel satisfaction as Claudia was caught in the very trap she had warned him against. Somehow her hand and Sonny's face managed to disobey the immutable laws of physics and occupy the same space without connecting. Jason realized vaguely that it was because they were each of different times or dimensions or something but thinking about it just caused his already throbbing head to ache more.

"Do you know where he is?" Carly broke the silence which had formed between them. Her voice was tremulous with fear and longing.

Sonny shrugged awkwardly as his eyes sparked with a jumble of emotions-dull pride, worry, and apathy-as he replied uneasily. "Nah, Michael has become a law unto himself. The men don't really like him much but they respect him…Well," he amended honestly, "They're afraid to cross him. Anyway, he's made it clear that his old man doesn't get to know what he's up to and now that Milo is gone and Max retired…" Sonny looked old, lost and-worst of all-powerless.

Jason was astonished. He had thought there was no end to Sonny's vitality, his zest for life and his ability to bend others to his will so that he would always get what he wanted. Both of them, Sonny and himself, just always thought they would go out the way they lived, bowing to the inevitable swift grace of violence. They neither believed that they would live long enough to grow old, to be supplanted by their children and to be left wandering uselessly by the wayside, lacking skills or interest in any other aspect of life.

He shivered involuntarily, this impotent prospective image of his future life was infinitely more shocking to him then the thought of a straightforward death from a bullet's impact. Jason had lived with the latter idea for all of his adult life. Yet, he had never once considered the former possibility until this very instant when stark realism intruded upon his consciousness as he gazed with both pity and dread upon Sonny's weary and wretched countenance.

He was surprised to find Claudia's eyes upon him, an alien look of sympathy in her expression. "Daddy always said there were only two types of people in our business-the live ones and the dead ones and no such thing as retirement. I wonder if this is what he meant." She inclined her head at an insensible Sonny who was leading Carly back to the couch, a solicitous arm wrapped around her waist.

Jason was surprised to find that he couldn't muster up much more than a lukewarm feeling of dislike for her at this moment. "Yeah," he responded gruffly. His eyes were focused on his two oldest friends as they sat together in an empty, echoing house with only their memories and the insupportable awareness of having failed their son to provide them with an entirely inadequate solace.

"It's time," Claudia was reaching for Jason and, before he could react, the usual sensations of disorientation and nausea were overwhelming him.

By the time he got his bearings in the new location two things had managed to infiltrate his awareness. One was that he was freezing cold, there was snow and ice under his bare feet and the thin t-shirt and flannel pants he was wearing did nothing to block the glacial wind blowing in off the harbor. The second was how dark it was, there wasn't a moon or any artificial lighting to illuminate wherever they were. Jason looked around cautiously ever mindful of the fact that until his body adapted to the abrupt change from hurtling through space to being once again earth bound, he needed to be careful in his movements.

They were on the docks, his eyes were gradually adjusting to the lack of light and he could make out various gradients of blackness. Straight ahead was a huge unlit expanse of nothingness that rolled and swelled as he watched. It was vaguely shiny and otherworldly and as he regained his bearings, Jason realized he was looking at the ocean. They must have been away from the center of the city because he didn't recognize this as a familiar part of the Port Charles waterfront.

Claudia was standing right next to him though he could only vaguely make out the pale oval of her face inset with a liquid shimmer which were her eyes. "Why are we here?" Jason meant to sound commanding as he asked for information but his chattering teeth betrayed him. He wrapped his arms around himself and jumped up and down in a vain attempt to warm himself. "I'll get frostbite if we stay here too long." He hated the almost whine in his voice, despised being dependent on Claudia Zacchara, of all people, for permission to stay or go, be warm or cold.

"Big baby," she mocked him, "So, it's a little chilly out, what do you expect? It's December in upstate New York, not exactly a newsflash." Jason jumped as she reached a hand over and touched his forearm. Her hand was so cold that she was actually leaching away what little heat his skin retained in the frigid night air. "I wish I could feel warm again." Claudia's voice was soft and full of amorphous yearning as once again Jason felt an unexpected stab of compassion for her flash through him.

He shook her hand off his arm, saying gruffly, "You're dead what do you…" when there was an unexpected noise from behind him.

He swung around, all his senses on high alert. He instinctually placed himself between Claudia and whatever or whoever had caused the sounds. He had forgotten she was only ghost, that it was Claudia Zacchara who he professed to hate. Instead, all that was in his mind was that she was female and it was his responsibility to protect her against any and all threats which might arise from being in such a dismal and unsavory part of Port Charles.

"Relax, will you?" Claudia hissed from behind him, her voice both irritated and amused, "They're why we're here and anyway, no one can see us remember, dummy?" She gave him a little shove for emphasis and he was already regretting his ingrained chivalric impulse.

Jason narrowed his eyes as he tried to make out who was approaching them through the Stygian gloom. He couldn't tell at first, all he was sure of was that there were two figures, one walking in front of the other. The progression of the individual in the lead was erratic. He stumbled frequently and would have fallen several times if the man behind him hadn't impatiently wrenched him back upright by yanking on his jacket.

As they came closer he could finally hear snatches of words over the sound of the wind. "Stop whining, Reynolds, there is nothing you can do to stop this. Face it like a man!" The voice was recognizable but something inside Jason wouldn't allow him to acknowledge it.

"Please, I'll do anything you want, anything at all." The voice of the man in front, Reynolds, was high pitched with terror as he pleaded for mercy.

The duo was almost directly in front of them and Jason's eyes were now so dark adapted that he could see who the second man was, and his heart instantly cleaved in two. "Michael," he whispered, grief stricken.

He desperately wanted to deny what was occurring before his very eyes. Yet, there was no gainsaying his nephew's practiced and brutal efficiency. Michael spun the hapless Reynolds around to face him and pressing down hard on his shoulder forced him to kneel on the icy ground before him. Jason could clearly see that the man was blindfolded, which combined with his devastating fear explained his staggering gait. He swallowed hard, fighting against an uprising of bile that threatened to overtake him bringing him perilously close to throwing up. This cold blooded, cruelly indifferent, vicious blonde thug was terrifyingly reminiscent of Jason in his younger days. He is what Michael would become, was even now evolving toward. For the first time tonight, Jason truly understood why he was being shown these scenes. He realized there was a single imperative guiding his every step from this moment onward, he must make sure they never, ever came to pass.

He turned blindly toward Claudia, "I've seen enough. I get it, I really do. Can we go, now please?"

He couldn't help recalling all the times he had been in Michael's place, unflinching, resolute, and uncaring about what the person at his feet had to say. It wasn't his problem, he had a job to do, orders to follow and it was just too bad for the poor guy whose time card was going to be irreversibly punched. Jason didn't enjoy doing it. It wasn't personal and he always understood that only the thinnest sliver of expertise or possibly only dumb luck separated him and his victim. This though, this was something else altogether, it was wholly intolerable. He couldn't bear to watch this man, this stranger, who once was a trusting baby lying in his arms, intentionally kill someone and what was even worse appear to take a perverse pleasure in doing so.

Claudia was shaking her head, "We have to stay, I'm sorry, Jason." She was inflexible in her refusal but sincere in her regret.

Jason refused to look, steadfastly he kept his back turned on the all too familiar tableaux unfolding mere feet away from him. Only the shredded remnants of his pride kept him from covering his ears with his hands as he furiously blinked back tears unwilling to let his erstwhile foe see him break down.

"Mr. Corinthos, I'll give the money back, every penny with interest. I swear it." It was Reynolds bargaining for his life.

Michael's voice was a bored drawl, "Even if you could which I know you can't because you gambled it all away, I checked, I couldn't let you. If I let you pay me back then any employee of our organization would think it was all right to embezzle from my father and me. You can see that is simply creating an unacceptable precedent, can't you?" He actually asked the question in a reasonable voice as though curious to know if Reynolds comprehended his reasoning.

The man was crying now, there was a shuffling noise and Jason found he had to turn back around, to watch with fascinated dread the monster he was responsible for crafting. The noise had been Reynolds scooting blindly forward on his knees as he reached out into the air trying to grasp Michael's legs, causing further degradation by prostrating himself before a truly stone cold killer. Michael watched his movements with a detached clinical interest, disdainfully stepping back a few feet every time Reynolds got close to touching him. A gun had materialized in his right hand and Jason realized with a shock of dismayed recognition that it was the twin of his own prized silver Beretta pistol.

"Mr. Corinthos, I have a family, children they need me, they depend on me." His breath was coming in hiccupping gasps. Panic was fast overtaking Reynolds as he doggedly kept moving forward and yet always failing to connect with Michael's legs.

Michael was shaking his head in faux remorse, "That's sad, really tragic. Still, maybe it's all for the best, those kids can now grow up without being hampered by a deadbeat dad who's constantly in debt. I think maybe I am doing them and your wife a huge favor. Maybe I'll drop by someday and tell them exactly how much they owe me."

Reynolds was so far gone, his desire for survival the only remaining functioning imperative of his brain that he failed to hear and digest Michael's casually delivered threat against his family. Yet, Jason fully comprehended his meaning and an involuntary chill of revulsion snaked down his spine.

"It's Christmas," Reynolds' voice was a fatigued whimper as he tried one last time to appeal to Michael's nonexistent conscience.

"That's right, so it is." Michael actually paused as though he were considering Reynolds' claim. "You know, my Mom? She adores Christmas. Every year she gets a huge tree and the family all decorates it and eat tons of cookies and it's all a very holly jolly time." His tone was reminiscent and for a moment both Jason and Reynolds were united in hope as they began to anticipate that Michael might relent. "Yeah, let's do it this way then, in honor of Mom and Christmas and all that." Reynolds was actually beginning to relax as he ceased his forward supplicant motion toward Michael. "See ordinarily, when someone does what you do, steals from the organization; we like to make an example of them so that no one else gets the same idea. First, I would shoot your kneecaps out one after the other. Then I would shoot you in the gut and leave you out here to die and give the gulls something to scavenge." The words were made even more savage by the entirely matter of fact tone in which they were delivered. Jason felt himself tensing again, there was something wrong in Michael's speech and Reynolds sensed it as well, his entire body stiffened in unsure expectation. "Still, you are so right, it's Christmas…" Michael was raising his right hand, the gun rock steady in his grip.

Without thinking, Jason stepped forward and placed himself between Michael and Reynolds who was anxiously trying to ascertain what was happening in his sightless world. "Michael, don't!" It was an order, it was a prayer, it was irrelevant.

Michael fired, the bullet passed effortlessly through Jason and Reynolds fell bonelessly backwards. His body hit the dock with a dull thump. A round, powder edged, black hole-a matched twin to the one Jason had seen earlier on Lorenzo's ghost-adorned the center of his forehead, the blindfold now metamorphosed into a superfluous accessory for dead eyes.

His eyes glittering with fierce satisfaction, Michael stalked directly through Jason and stood over Reynolds silent body for a long moment. Then after carefully placing the gun back in a holster under his jacket, he bent down and grunting with effort rolled Reynolds' corpse over until he reached the edge of the dock. Standing up, he gave a final savage kick and the body fell into the water with a loud plop.

"Merry Christmas," Michael said caustically as he turned and walked away.

Jason stood in a disbelieving daze as he watched an unaffected Michael calmly leave the scene of a cold blooded murder. He looked after him, his eyes aching as they fought against the darkness but finally he vanished from sight and there was nothing remaining but the almost soundless susurration of the sea.

Claudia touched him gently on the arm, "We need to go, Jason. There are still a few more stops."

He jerked his arm away from her touch as though it was burning hot instead of freezing cold. "What more could you possibly have to show me?" He asked with unrestrained bitterness. "What could be worse than this? Anyway, you don't need to bother, I will do whatever I have to in order to make sure this future doesn't come to pass."

Claudia stepped toward him once more, "I believe you, honestly I do. Still, I have to do as I'm told. C'mon…"

She reached out her hand a second time and he didn't resist her. His brief moment of rebellion ended abruptly as it began. He was too dispirited to try and fight against the implacable forces which were taking him on this extended journey of anguish and hopelessness. He truly couldn't imagine how hell could possibly be worse than the scene he had just witnessed.

Jason vaguely noticed that this particular journey was qualitatively different from the others he had embarked upon with Claudia. The experience was smoother and as they again alighted in some unfamiliar part of town, he didn't feel a compelling urge to be sick. It took him a minute to realize why this trip was so different than the three previous ones.

"You were doing it on purpose," he turned to Claudia, accusing her as he redirected all his frustration and despair toward his ghostly guide. "You could have made it easy to transport me around but you deliberately were messing with me!" Jason was incensed, how he could have ever felt any sympathy for this witch was beyond his ken.

Claudia ducked her head down in what Jason thought was embarrassment until he managed to get a clearer look at her face in the light cast by a nearby streetlamp and realized that she was actually laughing instead. "Yeah," she agreed, grinning unabashedly up at him, "Maybe just a little bit," she held her index finger and thumb up, showing just a tiny amount of space between them, "I wanted to see if I could dislodge that stick up your ass."

Jason stood stock still and glared at her while a muscle in his cheek twitched uncontrollably. He was unforgiving of her petty deception as he mentally berated himself for ever placing even the smalles modicum of trust in Claudia Zacchara, he knew better.

"Geez, all right! I give," Claudia was staring at him, an unexpectedly imploring expression on her face, "Mea culpa, mea culpa… You really don't have much of a sense of humor do you?" She finished on a more defiant note that was evocative of Claudia the bitch as Jason long ago christened her.

Jason turned away from her, not bothering to reply. He ignored her as he scanned the narrow, deserted street they were standing on. It was obviously located in some older industrial section of the town and seemed dimly familiar. He thought they might not be too distant from Corinthos-Morgan warehouses. The weather was just as freezing as it had been by the docks but now it was snowing, mean little spits of hard pellets that hit his exposed flesh and caused him to flinch.

"Why are we here?" His voice was clipped and icy, the recent détente between them summarily ended from his perspective.

"Hey," Claudia responded, clearly offended, "I said I was sorry. Lighten up, will you?"

"Lighten up?" Jason all but snarled as he moved toward her with a fierce rapidity that had her spontaneously backing away from him. "You're taking me on my own personal guided tour of hell and you want me to lighten up?"

"Now you just listen to me, buster!" It was Claudia's turn to move toward Jason, her eyes flashing with fury. "I think I can have any kind of attitude I want here. I am doing the best I can, escorting around a man who can't stand me and who would have killed me if golden boy back there hadn't beaten him to the punch. What do ya think, Jason? Do you think I was the catalyst, the reason that Mikey has learned to like killing and death so much?"

"Shut up!" He screamed at her, his eyes stinging from being hit by tiny, rock hard pieces of sleet. "Don't you talk about him that way, don't you even say his name. You have no right, no right at all!" His chest was heaving and he felt flayed from the inside out as though someone had pried open his jaw and forced him to swallow corrosive acid.

"No?" Claudia was mere inches away from him, her eyes pitch black pits as she hissed furiously at him. "I think I have every right and then some. That kid whacked me, hit me over the head with an axe handle. Then you and Sonny's minions buried me in an unmarked grave. I think that absolutely gives me the right to gripe if I want."

She paused for moment, her face oddly still and vacant of emotion. Jason watched her with something akin to curiosity, wondering what she would say or do next as his entire body protested against the searing cold it was being compelled to endure.

"Look, Jason," Claudia stepped away from him in an attempt to defuse the situation. "I know this is hard for you and it's no picnic for me either. Still, don't you get it? You are being given something precious, a chance to fix things, to alter the future. Yet, instead of realizing what an amazing opportunity this is, all you can do is complain! I have no idea why you have been chosen as a candidate for redemption but I know this much…If you don't take what you see and hear tonight seriously and make some changes in your life, you're not the only one who will suffer. I always realized that you're an obnoxious, self-absorbed son of a bitch but I thought you at least cared about other people."

Jason looked at her, his face a study in indecision. They both stood there for several moments wrapped in silence, as the snow worsened. Full size flakes were now falling, swirling in the wind before landing on the ground and already both the street and sidewalks were coated in a layer of white. Finally, Jason sighed and grudgingly nodded. "Okay, show me what you've got."

Claudia looked relieved to have him cooperating again. She turned in a complete circle, peering irresolutely through the surrounding blanket of white.

"Don't you know where to go?" Jason needled her, gratified to see a break in her apparent omniscience.

"It's the storm, I can't get my bearings," she was unperturbed by Jason's attempt to get her to react and show her temper again. "I think…" she was looking across the street, her index finger tapping her upper lip as she considered her options, "Yes, there it is! Come on." Claudia started across the street not checking to see if Jason was following her.

"Yes, your Majesty," he muttered, stepping off the curve and cursing as he was suddenly once again reminded of how cold and vulnerable his bare feet were in this brutal weather. "Shit, I swear if I get fucking frostbite from this-ghost or not-I'll wring her neck!" He followed Claudia through the thickening storm, grumbling an unending litany of complaints.

"This is it!" Claudia's cheeks glowed apple red in the muted light of the streetlamp as she stood next to the entrance of an alleyway that seemed little more than a dark, foreboding slit haphazardly placed between two dilapidated buildings.

"This is what exactly?" Jason asked her, he wasn't really relishing the thought of going into such a dank, ill lit alley, especially with bare feet. There might be rats and there sure as hell would be broken glass.

"Our destination," she announced grandly as though she were a tour bus guide and they had just arrived at the entrance to Buckingham Palace.

Hesitantly, he peered into the unrelieved gloom of the constricted passageway. He had absolutely no desire to go in there but he also knew that trying to refuse would be futile. He wasn't in his Port Charles, he was in the future. Without Claudia being willing to transport him, he couldn't get back to his own time to start fixing everything that was wrong both in his own life and the lives of those closest to him. Taking a deep breath, Jason tentatively stepped forward. Each time he moved forward into the alley he felt around with his leading foot as he tried to ascertain if there was anything sharp on the ground which might penetrate the tender skin on the soles of his feet.

"Oh, for God's sake!" It was Claudia growing impatient with his snail like progression. "Here let me go first." She moved in front of him and as she walked deeper into the alley she ran her own red shod foot over the ground, kicking away any detritus she encountered. "Better?" she threw back over her shoulder, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"Well, if you'd given me shoes in the first place, you wouldn't have to be doing this." Jason reminded her tersely.

Claudia didn't bother responding, she had stopped a few feet ahead of Jason and was looking to her right. Jason caught up to her and followed her line of sight. At first he thought it was just a bundle of rags which had caught her interest. It was difficult to see clearly. They were at the junction in the alleyway where what little light managed to filter in from the street was almost overwhelmed by the complete and total darkness of the deeper recesses of the drab little niche they were in.

Then as his pupils expanded and he could see slightly more clearly he suddenly realized he was looking at another body, his second of the night. It was a homeless person, ill dressed for the winter weather and it seemed as that might be what had killed him-exposure.

Exasperated, Jason looked at Claudia who hadn't taken her eyes off of the corpse. Her face was sad and she almost looked as though she were trying not to cry. "Claudia?" He prompted her, surprised and disconcerted by her reaction. "What does this-he-have to do with anything?"

She turned her head away and her voice came out thick sounding, her unshed tears choking her. "Jason…you have to look. I'm sorry but it's required."

Puzzled he focused his attention on the dead derelict. At first he couldn't tell anything different from what his first, more cursory examination, had revealed to him. There was something, though, some pull on a chord of memory. It appeared Jason did know him. He bent down, frowning in concentration, his hands on his knees as he used the inadequate illumination to try and discern something more about the dead man.

"God, no!" He was on his knees, sinking down onto the cold, filthy ground unmindful of sharp objects or rodents. He reached for him desperate to touch him, to shake him, to bring him back to life. His hand passed right through his shoulder and touched the clammy brick wall the body was resting against. "Spinelli!" His cry of grief rent the snow filled air as he faintly registered the sensation of a gentle hand come to rest on his own shoulder.

He was long dead, undisturbed by his visitors from the past. His eyes were open staring into an unknown eternity, a light layer of frost covered them making them seem opaque and creating the illusion of blindness. Snow lay on his bare head. It dusted his shoulders and naked hands which were clenched in the tight determination of rigor mortis around a brown paper sack, hard and unyielding as it contoured around the bottle it held.

Jason swallowed, he was beyond desolation as icy tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. He remembered he wasn't alone and suddenly he was on his feet grabbing wildly for Claudia. His fingers were digging unmercifully into her arms as he held her and shook her, forcing her to look away from Spinelli, to meet his eyes.

Claudia was unconcerned by his treatment of her, she didn't seem to feel any pain from his iron grip. "He was always so kind to me," she whispered to Jason, tears matching his own were coursing down her face, "He treated me better than I deserved. Such a sweet boy…" was her final epithet.

"Take me back, now!" He gritted through clenched teeth as he steadfastly refused to look any further at the wrecked loss of promise laying scant inches away. "I need to fix this. I understand that this is unacceptable. Just take me back."

He was pleading, he would get back down on his knees and beg her if necessary. He possessed an insatiable need to get back to the penthouse, to see Spinelli, to talk to him, to reassure himself that there was still time and that he could change this intolerable version of the future.

Claudia stared at him with compassion as she reached for him and for once he stepped willingly toward her, eager to leave this place. All he wanted was to be where he belonged, in a place and a time that he could control.

They weren't in his bedroom at the penthouse, they weren't at the penthouse period. No, they were still outside, the storm was still raging and Jason was matching it with his own outraged fury as he registered his betrayal. "Claudia!" He yelled, the word carried away by the uncaring wind.

He looked around him, she was nowhere in sight and he couldn't tell where he was, the snow formed an impenetrable wall of moving, churning white which confused him. He lurched forward having no idea if he was heading in the right direction or not and beginning not to care. His hands and feet were numb and he was seriously starting to contemplate the concept that he might die out here, wherever he was in this alien time and place, alone and cursed, never having the opportunity to make things right for those he loved.

Jason's forward motion was abruptly ended as he walked into something hard and unyielding. It was starkly black against the unceasing white and he ran his hands over it in overwhelming relief at finding something manmade. It was a wall and he knew it, immediately recognized it. "The Quartermaine mausoleum," he said incredulously as he continued to feel the flat panels of the black granite carved with the names of family members and their corresponding dates of birth and death.

Jason traced the wall from end to end until he knew where he was in relationship to it and the people he most cared about who were buried here. He sought out the familiar cornerstone that was Emily's plaque and after a few moments of reflection turned his attention to Alan's marker followed by the one belonging to Lila. Using his fingertips he searched for some new engraving that could possibly give him a clue as to why he might be here. He wasn't surprised, after his earlier visit to the Quartermaine living room, to find a freshly inscribed tablet that he managed to decipher as belonging to Edward Quartermaine. He felt a flash of regret at the thought of the old codger's passing. He had been a force to be reckoned with but he was hopefully now reunited with Lila and that would be the appropriate completion to their larger-than-life love story.

Finally, he discovered what he was looking for, another block of the eternal granite, directly below Emily's marker, was currently chiseled with words but he knew it had been blank the last time Jason visited his sister's grave. His fingers trembling, he read the deeply incised words-Jason Morgan, beloved son, brother, uncle.

Jason's legs gave out and he slid down the snow slick wall to collapse at its base, his head propped against his own tombstone. This then is what the entire evening had been leading up to-this time, this place, this face to face meeting with his mortality. It appeared that Jason Morgan wasn't indestructible, immortal or above the precepts of biology after all. The proof of that thesis was incontrovertibly etched into the stone he was resting his head upon.

"Claudia," his voice was hoarse and strained, he knew it couldn't be heard above the howling of the wind but somehow he didn't think that mattered. "I'm ready. Take me back…"

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


	6. Christmas

A/N: This is the beginning of the end of my journey with Dickens' timeless tale. This chapter grew apace, it ended up having to be subdivided due to sheer length. I hope it is a fitting wrap up to our adventure together-you, me, Charles, and of, course, the residents of Port Charles. The words are mine, the characters and the over arcing plot, alas are not.

Christmas

He was mumbling, "I'll fix it, I promise I'll fix it…please, take me back." Then Jason eyes flared open and he was awake. Sunlight limned the blinds of his windows as he stared around the familiar confines of his bedroom dazed and uncomprehending. The room looked familiar but subtly different as though he were regarding it from a unique vantage point. Slowly as his vision sharpened, he realized he was sitting on the floor, his back propped against his bed. "What the hell?" He brought his hands up to his face, dry scrubbing his features as though he could somehow rub his brain into coherence.

He started to push himself up off the floor and grimaced in pain as every single muscle in his body united in protest against the idea of his moving. Closing his eyes, Jason summoned all his considerable force of will and ignoring his sore muscles managed to stand upright. His balance was suspect and he swayed for a moment or two until his inner ear equalized itself. Slowly, shakily, walking as though he were geriatric, he made his way toward his bureau and peered apprehensively into the mirror that hung above it.

He stared intently at his reflection surprised to find he didn't look as bad as he felt. Raising a tentative finger he gently probed at the reddish, knot-like lump that was raised on his left temple. "Ouch!" He said automatically responding to the quick burst of pain that erupted in reaction to his probing fingers. "What happened last night?" Jason asked himself in breathless wonder. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so plastered that he blacked out, not since he'd been in his late teens or early twenties he thought. He liked being in control way too much to ever voluntarily relinquish that power to something as pointless and insidious as alcohol.

Sighing in frustration, he turned away from the mirror. Clearly, there weren't any answers to be gleaned from staring at himself. Whatever he had done last night the information was locked somewhere within his mind, he just needed to find a way to make himself remember. For now he needed to take a piss and follow that up with a long hot shower to soothe his aching muscles.

Jason was standing under a pounding stream of water, it was hot enough to steam up the bathroom and turn his skin pink. He had found other small wounds on his body-a large bruise on his right hip, abrasions on the palms of both his hands-which he had no memory of incurring. Still, due to the ministrations of the shower his body was already less sore and more flexible as he braced himself for what he had to do next. Screwing up his eyes in unhappy anticipation he reached over and turned the hot water off. It took a few seconds and then he gasped in painful shock as he was deluged by ice cold pinpricks of water.

He knew it was necessary, the heat followed by the cold, so as to prevent further stiffening of his muscles. As he steeled himself to endure a few miserable moments of icy cold water assaulting his bare skin he abruptly recalled being cold before, being almost on the edge of hypothermia. Suddenly his mind was flooded with events, all sharp edged and chaotic. They filled his brain, taking him unawares as he sagged under the unexpected weight of them. Jason fully remembered his visitors, remembered the journeys he took, the things he had seen…

"Spinelli!" The word was ripped from his throat as agony speared through his mind when he recalled the silent pathetic corpse lying discarded like garbage in a snow covered alley.

Fumbling, his hands tremulous with fear he turned off the frigid spray of water. He blindly grabbed for his towel and incompletely dried himself. He sprinted back into the bedroom and yanking open a drawer grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He shimmied his still wet legs into the jeans and ran for the bedroom door. He paused at the top of the stairs to put his head and arms into the t-shirt and then taking the stairs two at a time, finished pulling the shirt on as he descended.

He didn't know why he had come downstairs instead of heading down the hall to his roommate's bedroom. If forced to guess he would have claimed instinct as his rationale. Jason sagged with relief against the wall of the staircase, Spinelli was there, on the couch, asleep.

"Spinelli!" He was shaking his unresponsive, almost comatose appearing roommate, Jason had lost track of how many times he had called his name, his voice getting progressively louder as he became more and more concerned. "Wake up!" He ordered him, thoughts of alcohol poisoning and the possibility of having to call an ambulance racing through his fevered brain.

Just as he was about to give up and go in search of his cell phone to call 911, the form on the couch twitched and muttered something indistinct. "Stone Cold why are you disturbing the Jackal's rest at such an ungodly hour…"

"Spinelli," Jason's voice was hoarse as sat on the arm of the sofa, trembling while the adrenalin flowed out of his system, "I thought…well, never mind that, you need to tell me…"

Spinelli rolled over on his back groaning as the morning light assailed his eyes, his head was pounding and he placed his forearm over his vulnerable eyes in an attempt to shield them. "What information does Stone Cold require that could not wait until a more civilized hour on Christmas morn?" The words were somewhat garbled and spoken imprecisely but Jason was just grateful that his roommate was alive and cognizant.

"Then I didn't miss it!" Jason was infinitely reassured, "I still have time."

Reluctantly, Spinelli pulled himself partially upright, he sat slouched on the couch, his eyes half closed as he responded to Jason's cryptic remarks. "Miss what, Stone Cold? The Jackal's aching head must be playing havoc with his hearing as well. Why would it be of import to you that you have not missed Christmas Day? By my observations, it is an occasion of little significance in your life."

"No, you're wrong, Spinelli," Jason replied fervently, "It's a very important day, it marks the beginning of the rest of my life, of fixing things, of making things right for everybody I care about."

Spinelli's bloodshot green eyes were now wide open as he peered at his friend in stupefaction, "Have you experienced an epiphany, Stone Cold? Or perhaps your thoughts have been somewhat muddled by that evident injury on your forehead?" Spinelli gestured warily at Jason's head, concern shadowing his eyes. He was extremely unsure how to take Jason's transformed attitude about Christmas and quite possibly life in general.

Jason just stared at Spinelli for a moment without saying anything as he ran his fingers over the forgotten bump incurred when he had run face first into Carly's planter. He had temporarily forgotten about the nights' events, evidenced by all the cuts and bruises he bore as a result of his nocturnal adventures. Then he smiled broadly, an expression of pure elation spreading across his face.

He nodded his head almost bashfully at the bewildered boy sitting on the couch nursing his hangover. "That's right, Spinelli, that's exactly right. I had an epiphany and today is the day I start putting what I learned into action."

Jason stood up and crouching down by the sofa reached under it and wrapped his fingers around the empty vodka bottle tucked away out of sight. "Starting with this," he said his countenance settled back into its usual sternness as he stared grimly down at Spinelli. The hacker's face flushed red and he ducked his head miserably, refusing to meet his mentor's eyes. "We're going to talk about this later, about your need to drink every time something upsets you."

"It was just some holiday overindulgence, Stone Cold." Spinelli whispered, ashamed and frightened of what the possible consequences of his drinking binge might be.

Jason swallowed over the sudden lump that formed in his throat. He hated seeing Spinelli so pitiful but he wasn't going to risk his visions or whatever they were coming true. There was no way, as long as he had breath in his body that Spinelli was going to die of hypothermia, forgotten and destitute in some filthy alley.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting on the coffee table in front of the boy. Their knees were touching and he waited patiently, not saying another word, until Spinelli peered up at him, his face a study in contrition. "I'm not mad, I'm not." He needed Spinelli to clearly hear him, to know that he was speaking from his heart. "Well," he amended, the smallest of smiles flitting across his lips, "That's not totally right, I am really angry at myself."

"The Jackal doesn't understand," Spinelli was far too hung over to interpret subtext and all he felt was confused and scared that maybe this was it, the final transgression which had worn through his friend's indomitable patience.

"Spinelli, lately…well, usually, I don't treat you the way I should. You just accept my moods and while you always come through for me, I don't manage to do the same for you."

Jason was speaking in a somber tone while an endless set of pictures flipped through his memory as he recalled all the times Spinelli had helped him without question. He would drop everything and work his magic with his computer or more importantly just simply be there for him when he needed somebody. He had borne his temper, his despair, his fear and his unexpressed longing to have someone listen to him and even advise him. Except for the few times he was asked to do something against his conscience, he never once turned his back on his mentor.

Yet, Jason knew that he wasn't nearly as generous to the young man sitting on his couch, nursing a fierce hangover which was only the outward manifestation of the demons which haunted him. The only reason Spinelli would contend that he was, that he owed Jason so much was simply because when you come from nothing, anything, no matter how paltry, seems like almost too much. He was grateful for crumbs never once thinking he had a right to ask for the whole slice or even an entire cake. Jason gave him thin slivers of his time after his other business was concluded. After Sam, Carly, Michael, Sonny and anyone else who happened to call upon his help, his services, was satisfied. It wasn't equitable, more than that it simply wasn't right and it had taken seeing an insupportable future for him to reach that conclusion.

"Last night…" he began again.

"Last night," Spinelli interrupted him, "The Jackal was despondent. He was lonely without Maximista and it was the holidays and he unwisely imbibed too much alcohol." He stopped, his mouth was dry as cotton and his head throbbed, he added with a small groan, "Could not my physical discomfort be enough punishment for my misguided actions?" He looked at Jason, his eyes pleading, "I shall endeavor not to repeat such an ill advised lapse in behavior. Please don't make me forsake my abode, my home…"

Jason looked at him with bewilderment. "What are you talking about, Spinelli?" He was genuinely puzzled. "I would never kick you out, never." He said vehemently. "This is your home for as long as you want to stay. You're my friend, my family and I want you here. I said I was mad at me not you. Last night," this time he kept speaking, preventing any more interruptions, "All you wanted me to do was sit and watch a movie with you and I didn't because I was in a bad mood. I was unfair to you and I know that things have been rough lately and that you miss Maxie." He also knew full well that he couldn't honestly say the same for himself. "I should have stayed and spent time with you. I know that now. Hell, Spinelli, I knew it last night. Can you forgive me?" He looked appealingly at his roommate who was staring at him in open mouthed surprise.

"Me…forgive…you?" Spinelli stammered, his world had suddenly turned topsy turvy. "It was I that consumed unsanctioned alcohol, behaved in an unseemly manner and caused you untoward distress. The forgiveness ought to be in the other direction entirely."

Jason sighed, he ran his fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath tried again. He knew it was unreasonable to expect patterns of interactions established over years to change because of a single conversation. He gave brief unforeseen thanks for possessing Quartermaine genes. There wasn't a more stubborn bunch on the planet and it appeared he was going to need an unending supply of the trait coupled with persistence.

"You could have gotten ill or died, Spinelli." He said gravely as the hacker winced dismally at his uncompromising words. "What were you thinking drinking an entire bottle of vodka? I was this close to calling an ambulance this morning. Do you have any idea what it would do to me if something happened to you?" He waited for a response but once again Spinelli's head was bowed as he looked at the rug. "Will you promise me something?" Jason's voice was quiet, if he extracted this one assurance from the boy he would let him off the hook for the moment but it wasn't the end of the subject, not by a long shot.

"What?" His voice was barely audible.

"Look at me," Spinelli was used to obeying and he slowly raised his head, his eyes coated with a sheen of tears. "I want you to promise me that the next time you feel this low, when something is bothering you that you will not drink. Instead, talk to me, I'll listen. Will you do that for me?"

Spinelli looked at him incredulously, "You want me to talk to you?"

Jason gave a short little laugh, "Yeah," he said, "I know, me asking you to talk more, pretty amazing. Still, I mean it, Spinelli, I am always here for you. I may not act like it but you are very important to me and I will do everything in my power to help you. Do we have a deal?"

He held out his hand and for a moment he was concerned that Spinelli wouldn't agree. Yet, he urgently needed him to because the one thing he knew about the boy was that he didn't renege on his promises. Then tentatively Spinelli extended his hand and they shook, Jason's larger, warmer hand totally engulfing Spinelli's smaller, colder one.

"Deal," he said softly, looking Jason directly in the face.

Jason's shoulders slumped as he exhaled in relief, he hadn't been aware of how tense he was. "Good," he said simply, "Now, you stay there and I am going to fix you something to help you feel better so we can start planning Christmas."

He got up, carrying the empty vodka bottle with him, and headed for the kitchen as Spinelli's bemused voice trailed after him, "Plans for Christmas? In what alternative dimension does the Jackal find himself?" Jason snorted with sardonic amusement, if the kid only knew!

An hour later, Jason was sitting at the desk quietly scribbling notes and lists of things he wanted to accomplish for the day. Spinelli was still resting on the couch after drinking Jason's secret anti-hangover concoction, eating a banana and drinking copious amounts of water. A companionable silence reigned between them.

"Stone Cold," it was shyly spoken and Jason looked up from his planning to find Spinelli standing next to him holding out a gaily wrapped package. "Merry Christmas," he said, thrusting the package at Jason who had no choice but to accept it.

"Spinelli, I…" Jason was mentally cursing himself. He should have realized Spinelli would get him something. After all, he had every year he lived at the penthouse and every year Jason accepted the gift with bad grace because of the flash of guilt it engendered. This year though he earnestly wished he had something tangible to exchange for the solid evidence of Spinelli's thoughtfulness and caring which was weighing down his hands. "Um, I…don't…"

Have anything for you was going to be the rest of the sentence as it was each Christmas but Spinelli forestalled him. "The Jackal doesn't give gifts in order to receive the same," he chided him gently. "He wishes to share the bounty of the season and to perhaps bring some small measure of joy to others and with that be wholly content."

Suitably chastened, Jason proceeded to open the carefully wrapped present determined to show appropriate gratitude though he seldom received anything that excited much interest in him. Jason's material wants were few and far between in addition to being immeasurably prosaic.

The wrapping was removed revealing a rectangular box showing a picture frame on the cover. "Ah, thanks, Spinelli," Jason was quite relieved, it was a utilitarian gift. "I'll find a good picture to put in here and put it up on the mantel."

Spinelli gave him a quizzical look, looking momentarily mystified, and then a broad, impish grin crossed his face as he recognized his mentor's complete lack of comprehension about the gift. "No, no Stone Cold, tis not an old fashioned frame meant to hold but one trifling picture at a time. Indeed, this is a cutting edge technological marvel of its ilk not yet available to the general public. It has the capacity to hold eight gigabytes of memory which makes it suitable for showing films if that were your inclination. Still, the Jackal stayed within the more traditional constraints…" Spinelli observed Jason's glazed expression as he belatedly understood that Jason had most likely stopped following his explanation somewhere around the word technological. "Here, Stone Cold," he said relenting, "Allow me to demonstrate."

He took the unopened package from Jason's unresisting hands and lifting the lid pulled out a sleek looking picture frame edged in a shiny charcoal grey material. Spinelli placed it on the desk in front of Jason and flicked a switch. Jason stared mesmerized as a smiling picture of Emily materialized and then after a moment it just as unexpectedly changed into a picture of Morgan, Michael and Josslyn all wearing Santa hats. Jason watched enthralled as picture after picture unfolded on the screen. All the people most precious in his life were represented-Sam, Carly, Michael, Morgan, Josslyn, Sonny, Robin and Patrick, Emma, Alan, Monica, Lila, Emily and even Edward. In some cases the pictures spanned time, Michael and Morgan as babies and as they were now or he and Carly when they were young and carefree as he had witnessed just last night. There were countless pictures of individuals and of groups. They streamed seamlessly one into the other without chronology, without pattern and Jason was fully captivated. It was the single best present he had ever received.

Jason simply sat in contented silence watching the photographs flow and transform, minutes passed and he had yet to see a repeated image. Still, there was something bothering him and he couldn't quite place what was disturbing him but whatever it was wouldn't stop nagging at his mind.

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli broke into his concentration as he attempted to determine what was off about the picture show. He was holding up a tiny device. "This is an additional memory card that has pictures of the Maternal One and young Cameron and Jacob Martin. The Jackal realizes that you would only wish to peruse these pictures privately and not have them on public display. Thus, he created a separate storage system."

Jason absentmindedly took the proffered memory card, having only half heard what Spinelli was saying but it was enough of a catalyst to slot everything into place in his own memory. "Wait a minute!" He almost shouted the words, startling Spinelli. "How could you?" Jason was furious, this was simply more of the same and he wasn't going to endorse it any longer not after what he had seen last night.

"How could I do what?" Spinelli was taken aback by Jason's outburst.

He had been so pleased at the reception of his gift. He believed that for the first time in their relationship he had perhaps found the perfect blend of sentimentality and practicality to offer his mentor. At first it appeared as though Jason agreed with Spinelli's evaluation of the present but now he was angry and Spinelli possessed no clue as to why.

"This is an amazing gift, Spinelli." Jason was working hard at reining in his temper because he knew his roommate had no idea why he was so upset. "All these pictures, it must have taken you so much time and effort to collect them from everyone and compile them and transfer them but I have to return it to you." Suiting his action to his words he reached over and after fumbling around the back of the frame for a few seconds found the switch and turned it off. The screen abruptly went dark.

"Give it back?" Spinelli felt like crying. It was far worse to have the gift be temporarily received graciously and then thrown unceremoniously back in his face then if Jason had been disdainful of it from the start. "What is the problem, Stone Cold?" He asked hoping maybe there was some technical glitch he hadn't observed and could easily remedy.

"It is incomplete," Jason said looking straight in the eyes, puzzled green meeting resolute blue.

"Incomplete…I don't… the Jackal …that is, what is missing?" Spinelli stammered. He had been so careful to include everyone that Jason cared about and to even safely relegate Elizabeth and her boys to the secondary memory card for the sake of security.

"My family is incomplete and until that is fixed I won't accept it." Jason was holding the frame out to Spinelli who reluctantly took it, his eyes downcast and his hands trembling.

"Your family?" Spinelli echoed, racking his brain as he tried to think what egregious error he had committed, whom he had forgotten to include in the pictures. "Could Stone Cold enlighten his grasshopper as to who is missing so he can rectify the situation?" Spinelli asked timidly, unable to come up with a name on his own.

"You, Spinelli," Jason said with gentle sadness, "You are missing."

Spinelli gaped at him in confusion, "Me?" He repeated in a befuddled tone, "Why ought the Jackal be included in the pantheon of those connected to Stone Cold by either ties of blood or years of acquaintanceship and love?"

Spinelli's response was to be expected because Jason tardily recognized that he was responsible for not adequately communicating his feelings for the younger man. In the beginning, when Spinelli was first thrust upon him as an unsought roommate, they hadn't comprised much more than an exasperated irritation. Gradually they altered to a grudging respect tinged with a bewildered bemusement at having this uniquely awkward creature in his charge. Then finally, without his awareness, they changed to affection and really, were he to be candid with himself, a forthright love. Yet, the problem was that Spinelli had no inkling of this emotional metamorphosis. Jason's outward demeanor toward the hacker showed little material change over time and Spinelli's consistent lack of self-esteem made him ill equipped to read his mentor's true feelings toward himself.

"Spinelli," Jason tried again to get through to him, "You've lived with me for over three years now. I have come to rely on you, to depend on you not just for your computer skills but for your insight and morality. Sometimes you were the only person I could talk to about so many things. You still are somebody that I trust completely, who I am so proud of and believe in and care about. You are more my family than most people who are actually related to me and in my heart there is no distinction between you or Michael or Jake or Morgan or anyone I love."

Spinelli just stood there looking at him, virtually speechless which was the best illustration of his depth of wonder. Jason laughed as he pointed to the forgotten frame in Spinelli's hands. "So, as soon as you put some pictures of yourself in there, I'd appreciate my picture frame back. Also, Spinelli, I'd like it best if you would put in some photos of yourself as child like you did for Morgan and Michael."

"Stone Cold wishes to peruse photographs of the Jackal in his younger days?" Spinelli's voice was little more than a rough croak as he continued to stare at Jason in disbelief.

"Yeah," Jason said softly, his eyes surprisingly tender, "I want to know what you looked like as a baby, as a toddler, in grade school, high school. I missed all those years and it's impossible to fix that but I would at least like to have some pictures of those times to help make up for it."

Reluctantly, Spinelli nodded, his expression dazed. "Of course, if that is what Stone Cold wishes the Jackal will venture to see if his Granny has any such mementos in her possession. Unfortunately, picture taking wasn't an activity often indulged in our house."

Jason flashed him a brief smile, simply glad that Spinelli had finally agreed to his request. "Do the best you can. Meanwhile, might I ask you another favor?" He turned back to the desk and picked up the lists he had been compiling while Spinelli recovered from his hangover.

"Stone Cold knows he need not even ask, the Jackal is perennially at his service." Spinelli was eager to get away from the disturbing minefield of talking about his place in Jason's life.

Jason nodded gratefully, "You are always there for me when I need you and I value that." Starting today, as much as it pained him to be all touchy feely, he was going to start making such things crystal clear to the hacker. "Anyway," he continued, wanting to get back to a less emotionally fraught subject himself, "I want to throw a Christmas party this afternoon at Kelly's and I need your help to make sure it all goes smoothly."

Once more, Spinelli stared at him his eyes wide with astonishment, "A Christmas party, you say? Stone Cold wishes to host a holiday get together?" He actually tilted his head and shook it as though checking his hearing.

Jason glowered at him, irritated with his overly dramatic attitude. "Yeah, Spinelli, I want to have a party for my friends and family. Will you help me?"

Spinelli looked remorseful as he saw that Jason wasn't playing some peculiar practical joke on him. " Absolutely, what would you have your grasshopper do to prepare for the festivities?"

Jason reached behind him for the papers lying on the desk. "Okay, well I was wondering if you would mind going to Kelly's and checking in with Mike. I know it's Christmas Day but I was hoping he'd do this as a favor for me. Also, you can tell him that Sonny and all his grandkids are probably going to be there so it isn't like he'll be missing out spending the holiday with them."

"Check, the Jackal will ascertain whether or not Kelly's is the feasible locale for Stone Cold's most unexpected upsurge of seasonal goodwill."

"Are you going to make a crack about how not me this is every time I open my mouth?" Jason asked him grumpily.

Spinelli shook his head, holding his hands out in front of him in mock fear, "No, no Stone Cold, the Jackal's ad hoc commentary on Stone Cold's agreeable but very out of character behavior shall be discontinued as of now." He mimed zipping his lips.

Jason just grunted but his lips twitched ever so slightly. "Okay, now this," he handed Spinelli one of the sheets of paper he'd been working on, "Is a list of people I want to ask to the party. I was wondering if you could go around and invite them and anyone else you want to ask as well. Just be sure to let Mike know about how many people to expect."

"Most assuredly, consider it done." Spinelli said cheerfully, "Might I inquire as to what you shall be doing as the Jackal scurries about Port Charles spreading Christmas cheer?"

"There are some people I need to talk to and invite personally and…well, some other things I need to do. The party is going to start at four pm. Maybe you could go back to Kelly's and help Mike with anything he needs."

Spinelli was already at the closet picking out one of his innumerable jackets. He turned back to Jason as he was leaving, "I shall see you anon, Stone Cold."

Jason nodded his agreement and just as the door was closing, he called out, "Hey, Spinelli?"

The hacker poked his head back into the room, "Did the Master forget some pertinent instruction for his grasshopper?"

Jason shook his head, "No, I just wanted to say thanks, Spinelli and uh, Merry Christmas!"

Spinelli stared at him with a slight return of his earlier consternation. It was obvious that it would take him a while to get used to the changes in his roommate's personality. Still, it was entirely understandable because Jason himself wasn't quite sure how long it would be before he got used to acting this way himself

Spinelli smiled at him, his eyes shining with something indefinable, "You are very welcome and Merry Christmas to you as well, Stone Cold."

Jason hesitated outside the French doors, he looked around the familiar patio which he had visited three times the night before but unlike his final trip, this time he was fully dressed and wearing his boots. He could have gone through the front door, pushing the doorbell like any other visitor but somehow this approach seemed right. He thought both Emily and Alan would approve. Taking a deep breath he pulled open the doors and stepped into the room.

It took a moment for his presence to register with the inhabitants of the living room but when it did their reactions were as predictable as though they were reading an invisible script. Edward recovered from his surprise first and grumbled to the room at large, "Arrogant pup, doesn't come around for months on end. He could be dead for all we know and then when he does show up, he comes in like he owns the place!"

Tracy stared at him coolly over a tall glass filled with an orange liquid which might conceivably have been orange juice but that Jason would have bet with anyone around naïve enough to take him up on it that it was a mimosa. "Well, well the miscreants are arriving early today."

"Speak for yourself, wife," Luke sauntered into the room and coming up behind Tracy gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Some of us miscreants were up all night sampling the special delights on offer." He growled roguishly at her and she scowled at him before taking a large sip of her drink to cover her pleased smile. "Hey, Jason," Luke said offhandedly as he poured himself a large scotch, "What brings you here, man?"

Jason and Edward spoke simultaneously. "Must you persist in drinking my twenty-five year old scotch like it is soda pop? It isn't even eleven o'clock in the morning." The old man complained while Jason said, "I came to see Monica, is she here?"

At that very moment Monica walked into the living room, speaking to Alice, "We'll ask everybody what they want on their pizzas and then you can call the…Jason!" She exclaimed with pleasure as she darted across the room to greet him.

He surprised her by stepping forward and gathering her into his arms hugged her tightly, "Merry Christmas!" He whispered to her, his voice catching unexpectedly.

"Merry Christmas, Jason," she replied her cheeks tinted pink with joy at the unanticipated appearance of her only surviving child. For the first time in decades Monica was the first one to step back from the embrace as she looked up at him with mild wonder, "It's like a miracle." She said softly reaching up a cautious hand to pat his cheek and stared wide eyed when Jason didn't reject or react negatively to the caress but actually smiled at her. "First the gift came yesterday and now you're actually here. This is the best Christmas in years."

Tracy rolled her eyes, "Oh for God's sake, Monica!" she said brusquely, "He's a mob enforcer for Sonny Corinthos not some sort of visiting angel."

"He's my son, Tracy," Monica retorted hotly, "And as such is welcome in my house anytime."

Hoping to pre-empt any further continuation of the endless squabbling between the two, Jason asked Monica, "Gift? What gift?"

She smiled at him and turning pointed at the mantelpiece. Sitting there in pride of place, cycling through photograph after photograph was another picture frame, a twin to the one Spinelli gave Jason. Naturally, many of the pictures contained with this frame were different than those in Jason's but there were also quite a few duplicates as well. Emily, Alan, Monica, Michael, Lila, Edward and especially Jason himself, were all amply represented. Several of the pictures of Jason were ones he didn't recognize from when he was much younger-a teenager, a school boy, a toddler and an infant. Though there were a fair number of more recent ones included as well.

"Honestly, Jason," Monica said as she avidly watched the ever flowing montage of Quartermaine pictures, "How on earth did you manage to find all those photographs? Some of them I haven't seen in years and others I never even knew existed." She tilted her head to look up at him, her cheeks still flushed with happiness at his presence in her living room, her eyes shining like stars.

He stared down at Monica needing to correct her misapprehension about who the present was truly from. "Spinelli…" he started to say when he noticed Alice standing by the doors to the room frantically signaling to him. She was waving her arms to get his attention and shaking her head vehemently all the while mouthing the word 'no'.

"What's the matter with you, woman?" Edward had caught sight of her contortions, "Are you having some type of fit?" He asked irritably.

"Alice?" Monica questioned, swinging around and looking at the maid with alarm. "Are you all right?" She examined her with a critical eye, her doctor persona moving swiftly to the fore.

Alice gave a shaky little laugh as she fanned her face with her hand, "Nothing to worry about, Dr. Quartermaine, just a little hot flash."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Edward exclaimed, turning beet red as he shook his newspaper out angrily and took cover behind it, "Can we kindly not have such talk in this house on Christmas Day?"

"Sorry, Mr. Q," Alice said with easy going repentance now that the secret behind the frame was safe.

"You were saying about, Spinelli? Monica prompted Jason, her attention no longer diverted by Alice's mini-crisis.

Jason was silent as he pondered his response. He perceived what Spinelli had known all along that while the gift was definitely appreciated, it was in fact more the idea that Jason had thought about them with regard to it that Monica and Edward truly valued. He couldn't take away their uncomplicated enjoyment in the present. Anyway, he knew Spinelli wouldn't desire the credit for it. "Um, Spinelli uploaded all the pictures into the frame since I didn't know how to do that."

Monica nodded her head, beaming cheerfully, "Yes, he delivered the present to us yesterday afternoon. He told us specifically how much thought and time you had put into finding just the right thing and that is certainly true. It's an absolutely marvelous gift, Jason and I'll treasure it."

Edward had come up next to the two of them and said gruffly, "Yes, my boy, it was very thoughtful of you to make your mother and myself so happy. Maybe there's hope for you yet!"

"I am glad you like it," He said simply. "Actually though the main reason I came over was to invite you to a party Spinelli and I are hosting at Kelly's this afternoon. I know it's short notice but I was hoping you could come."

"A party!" Tracy gave a hoot of disbelieving laughter, "The thug is throwing a Christmas party, will wonders never cease? I suppose the invitation says something like bullet proof vests are optional!"

"You and Luke are invited as well, Tracy," Jason said coldly refusing to respond to her mocking comment. "Actually, Luke I think Spinelli will probably invite Lulu and Ethan is certainly welcome to come along also."

"We'd love to come, Jason," Monica said, she truly couldn't remember a better Christmas in recent memory.

"Hmmph," Edward said grudgingly, "I suppose we could show up for a while. Though you're just lucky we didn't have any other more pressing plans, young man."

"Sounds good," Luke said easily, saluting him with his scotch glass.

"Wait just a minute!" Tracy was indignant, "Don't I get any say in the matter?"

"Certainly, my sweets," Luke said smoothly, "You can stay sulking here in this mausoleum and eat luke-warm pizza or you can come out and celebrate the day with everyone else like a human being. Anyway, Edward and I are going, isn't that right Eddie?" Luke patted him on the back causing the older man to swat cantankerously at him with the rolled up newspaper he held in his hand.

Jason took the beginning of an additional round of bickering as his cue to leave. He gave Monica another brief smile. "Well, we look forward to seeing whoever decides to come this afternoon. Merry Christmas, everyone."

Tracy's high pitched querulous voice followed him, "I suppose it doesn't matter to you that most likely while we're all singing 'Frosty the Snowman' there will probably be a hail of bullets from some type of mob hit or war or something?"

Luke's ironic drawl answered her, "Sounds exciting, you know how gunfire turns me on."

Alice was holding the front door open for Jason, he stopped and whispered to her, "Thanks for helping Spinelli out with the pictures."

She blushed, "It was my pleasure, Mr. Jason. Dr. Quartermaine really loved your gift."

Jason scratched his head, uncomfortable with the unearned credit. "Alice, please come this afternoon. I know Spinelli would be thrilled to see you, he's a big fan of 'The Dominator'"

Alice smiled at him widely and inclined her head graciously, "Thank you for the invitation, I'd like that very much. It will make a change from spending the day trapped here with them." She grinned at him conspiratorially, adding, "That Spinelli, he's a good boy."

Jason nodded his head, his eyes warm with pride, "Yes, he is, the best."

Jason was ushered into Sonny's living room by Milo; Max was off for the day with Diane Miller. They were two of the people on Spinelli's list to find and invite to the party. Sonny was standing by his very large Christmas tree, a glass of scotch in his hand and a melancholy expression on his face.

When Jason was announced he smiled broadly and after placing his drink on the coffee table stepped forward to greet his friend, "Merry Christmas, Jason! Can I get you a drink to celebrate the day?"

"No, thanks," Jason replied eying Sonny's own drink.

His thoughts turned briefly to Spinelli and he pondered whether it might not be a good idea for him to not drink around him at least for a while. He was determined to make sure there would be no more episodes of him consuming an entire bottle of alcohol because he was depressed or stressed. If leading by example would help then Jason was more than willing to do that.

"What brings you here?" Sonny interrupted his reverie, "Not that I'm not glad to see you, it was a little lonely here since all the kids are with their moms. Still, you usually don't get around on Christmas."

Jason smiled wryly, "You're right, I usually stay hidden in the penthouse until it's all over but I'm changing how I'm doing things this year-Christmas…and other things as well."

"Other things?" Sonny prompted him, his face serious as he recognized Jason was talking about the real reason for his visit.

Jason inclined his head as he acknowledged how well Sonny knew him by correctly guessing the reason he had come to his house. "Yeah, Sonny, I owe it to you to tell you first since you're the one it most directly impacts." He hesitated for a moment and then continued, "I'm quitting." The words were stark and unadorned and Jason wanted them to be that way so as there could be no misunderstanding his intent.

Even so, Sonny cocked his head and looked at Jason quizzically, his expression uncomprehending. "Quitting?" He repeated, "Haven't we already talked about this? You want to hand over the enforcer duties to other people-Max, Dominic, Johnny maybe," Sonny said the last name resentfully, his distaste and distrust of his former business competitor and current romantic rival clearly communicated. He shrugged indifferently as he bent over and retrieving his drink, took a long swallow of the amber liquid. "You know I don't like it but I agreed for Michael's sake."

Jason shook his head, feeling exasperated as he watched Sonny try and play mind games with him by willfully misinterpreting what he had just said. "That was before, Sonny. Back then, I was still intending to be in the business but not now, not anymore. I can't have anything to do with it. I need to get out, make a clean break."

Sonny's face contorted, he was plainly upset. "Don't talk foolishness, Jason. You know that's not possible. It's too dangerous to just up and quit and besides I need you, I rely on you."

"I'm sorry, Sonny, my mind's made up. I know there might be problems and that people might think they can come after me to settle old scores. I can take care of myself though. I won't go looking for trouble but I'm not going to run away from it if it comes. I don't have a choice, I have to do this."

Sonny was frustrated that Jason was ignoring his desires and opinions on the issue. "What happened to cause you to make such a life altering decision?" If he understood exactly why he was leaving the business it would be easier to talk him out of such a rash action.

Jason shook his head, "It's complicated and not something I really can talk about. I have to get out of the business-for myself but most of all for Michael. I can't continue to exist in some sort of grey area of being in the mob but not being an enforcer and expect that Michael can appreciate the difference. I have to make a clean break, show him that there are other options out there." Jason paused, he looked at Sonny, he knew what he was about to say was unlikely to sway his old friend but he had to try. "I wish you could think about it as well, Sonny. It's only something half accomplished if I leave and you stay. Michael looks up to you, whatever you do he wants to emulate. If you became a legitimate businessman like you tried to do before, that would go a long way toward convincing him that this isn't the only life there is for him."

Sonny looked uncomfortable, he gave a little half laugh, "Jason, Jason, I can't do that. You're right, I did try to get out, I really did. It didn't work though. Claudia tried to kill me and ended up hurting Michael instead. Besides, I don't know how to do anything else. This line of work, I'm good at it, I've done it my whole life. I was miserable when I was just running the coffee business full time. You know that." He looked appealingly at Jason, needing him to understand his viewpoint, to endorse his decision.

Jason sighed, "I know, Sonny," he said with quiet disappointment, "You need to make your own resolution, your own choices. I respect that, just like I need you to respect my decision."

Sonny gave him a lopsided grin, his dimples flashing briefly, "I do, Jason. I wish it could be otherwise but you need to follow your own path I guess." He added, his voice sorrowful, "I kind of always thought we'd be partners forever. There isn't anyone else I can rely on or trust like you, Jason. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Sonny but it's not the end of our friendship just our business association." Jason paused, there was still something else he needed to say, to make crystal clear to Sonny and he knew it wasn't necessarily going to be easy. "Look, Sonny about Michael…"

At the repeated mention of his elder son's name, Sonny's gaze sharpened, he was no longer waxing nostalgic about his and Jason's historic partnership. "What about Michael?" He asked, his tone defensive.

"Just this," Jason's demeanor had altered, he was now all business, "There is no possibility of him joining the organization or following in your footsteps. It's nonnegotiable, Carly and I are agreed about this." He looked defiantly at Sonny, daring him to disagree with him, with them.

Sonny surprised him, his eyes were melancholy, "I entirely agree," he said, "None of my children are ever going to be associated with the business. It may do for me but not for them. I want better for them." A part of him was offended that Jason and Carly could even doubt his intentions on this vital point. He might not be the world's best father but he would never wish the life he lived, a life of violence and uncertainty, on any of his children.

"Then a united front?" Jason clarified, relieved that he didn't have to fight Sonny on this because he would have. It was too important to let old patterns of obedience or acquiescence rule the day.

"Yeah," Sonny grinned at him, "A united front. Hey," he asked, his curiosity aroused, "What are you planning to do if you leave?" He still wasn't sure he believed Jason would actually follow through and permanently leave the organization. He hadn't really ever known any other life anymore than Sonny had.

"If they'll have me, I want to join McCall and Jackal. It will allow me to keep my hand in. I'd still be doing similar stuff to what I did in the business just a little more legitimately and with fewer people trying to kill me and vice versa."

Sonny gave a derisive snort, "Oh, yeah that will keep you occupied, hanging around with the kiddy crowd! I give you three months top and you'll be back. I'll make sure to keep your spot open."

Jason sighed, he knew that the only way to convince Sonny of the irrevocable nature of his intentions was to show him. When enough time had passed without him asking to rejoin the organization he figured Sonny would eventually accept the change in the status of their relationship. Their connection would change from primarily being business partners to simply being long term friends who would meet at Carly's when some family occasion demanded both their attendance.

Jason felt a slight twinge of sadness at the thought of the inevitable loss of intimacy between the two of them. Sonny wouldn't be able to discuss the business with him any longer while Jason would be focused on other, hopefully more lawful, pursuits. Yet, his true sorrow was that he hadn't been able to convince Sonny to at least consider leaving the business himself. He wondered if at some point in his life, Sonny had been visited by spirits who gave him the opportunity to amend his own future or if he simply relied on his relationship with the Catholic Church to protect his soul from the threat of damnation. Jason would never know the answer and he recognized that all he could hope to do now was control his own destiny.

It was past time for Jason to go, he had several other stops to make. "Sonny, I…well Spinelli and I, are throwing a Christmas party this afternoon at Kelly's. I hope you can come. Carly and the kids and Alexis and the girls are invited and of course Mike will be there. It will be a chance for you to spend the holiday with your family."

Sonny stared at him stunned, "You, Jason? You're hosting a Christmas party? Now I've heard everything. Did that geek talk you into it?"

Jason flushed, his eyes glittering angrily as he responded to the slight against Spinelli. "No, it was my idea but if you can't be civil to Spinelli then don't bother coming at all, Sonny. It's Christmas-you know peace on earth, goodwill to men."

"Okay, okay," Sonny capitulated, he realized they would never agree on the topic of the computer hacker. Part of him was jealous that Jason was choosing him and Sam over his oldest friend, his mentor. Yet, there was no point in antagonizing Jason, he was the most stubborn person Sonny knew. "I'll be there and I promise to be on my best behavior." He gave Jason a cocky grin as he drained the remnants of alcohol from the glass in his hand. "By the way," he called after Jason's retreating back, "In the interest of fostering goodwill with women, I'm going to invite Olivia Falconeri as my guest if that's all right."

Jason nodded his head and kept walking. His mind was already on the other people he needed to see before the party.

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


	7. Christmas II

A/N: This was an intense project but I am reasonably satisfied with the outcome. Thank you Mr. Dickens for you inspiration and thanks GH for letting me borrow your characters and create my own fused fantasy world with them. Most of all thanks for taking the time to read this story, it is appreciated more than you know!

Christmas II

Jason was cutting across the park, heading toward Carly's when he heard the distinctive sounds of a fight somewhere off to his left. There was a series of muffled grunts and the sickening crunching noise of a fist landing on some bony, less tender area, of the face. It was either the jaw or nose Jason surmised as he made his way through dense undergrowth toward the invisible combatants.

He stepped out into a small clearing, a hidden glade that was probably a shady retreat for lovers in the summer. Yet, on this cold day in early winter it was simply a circular swathe of trampled snow speckled red with far flung droplets of blood from the bleeding and broken nose of Keifer Bauer, Kristina Davis' boyfriend. His opponent, standing across from the dazed Keifer who was attempting to staunch the heavy flow of crimson fluid from his damaged nose, was one Michael Corinthos. He was glaring balefully at his sister's boyfriend, shaking out his right hand in reaction to the pain which coursed through it when it connected solidly with the other boy's nose.

Suddenly, without any warning, Michael clenched his injured fist tightly, pulling his right arm back tautly against his shoulder to create coiled force, he prepared to once again strike out at the injured youth. Standing unseen behind him, Jason read his body language and just as Michael released his contracted muscles enabling his arm sail out powerfully he found it inextricably restrained, bound down by his side by an unexpected grip of inflexible iron.

"Stop it, Michael," Jason hissed into his ear, "That's enough, it's over."

Keifer stumbled backward, only belatedly realizing how narrowly he had escaped a second attack. He glared balefully at Michael and turning to Jason said, "He assaulted me, for no good reason. I was just minding my own business on my way home when out of nowhere he pulled me in here and started hitting me." His voice was muffled by his swollen nose. He swallowed convulsively several times as blood and mucus slipped down his throat. His expression was disgusted as he once more swiped at his injured extremity and stared in repugnance at the resultant red fluid coating his hand. "Look what he did to me," he held out his hand as incontrovertible proof. "He broke my nose. He's going to pay for this. My family will make sure he pays." Keifer was almost hysterical with rage and pain, his chest heaving with agitation and fury.

Michael was struggling ineffectually against Jason's relentless grip. "Let me go," he snarled, his eyes narrow slits of wrath as he tried to break away from his uncle and once more attack Keifer.

"Why were you fighting?" Jason's voice was calm, measured as he attempted to quell images from his experiences of the night before. This violent encounter was occurring all too soon. He needed time to reach Michael, to turn him from his destructive path and this savage eruption indicated that he might be farther gone than any of them had previously thought.

"I have no absolutely no idea!" Keifer said indignantly as he spat a large globule of blood onto the snow by Michael's feet. "He's crazy, I didn't do anything to cause this. It's all him, he's just like his father, a mobster!"

"Bullshit!" Michael had stopped trying to free himself and instead he was eerily calm as he stared at Keifer, his eyes cold and flatly reptilian.

Jason felt a shiver run down his spine at the change in his nephew's demeanor. He realized with a sinking heart that Michael looked uncannily like Jason used to when he was almost the same age and just starting to revel in the intoxicating power that physical might and intimidation brought him.

"He's been hitting Kristina." The accusation was made without any overt show of emotion.

"What?" Jason asked him, startled, "How do you know?" It was a serious charge and if it was true something would have to be done about it just not by Michael, never again by him if Jason could possibly prevent it.

"He's lying!" Keifer spat the words out instantly but a shadow of fear flared briefly in his eyes and Jason knew without a doubt that Michael was telling the truth.

"I'm not," Michael was still calm, the only indication of his temper was in the rigidity of the body being restrained by Jason's hands. "I've seen the bruises. I've seen him grab her. He deserves to die for laying his filthy hands on her."

Jason closed his eyes as desolation washed over him, for a brief moment the world receded and all he could feel was pain and fear. Claudia had been right, regardless of what did or didn't happen to him, it was imperative that he save the people he loved. Michael must be pulled back from the brink of corruption, somehow his moral compass needed to be reset while the wondrous light that was Spinelli's soul must never be allowed to go dark. They were all that mattered and he would do whatever he needed to make sure that the inconceivable future he was permitted to glimpse would never come to pass.

He didn't really know how he was going to accomplish this monumental task but it was clear that he was starting with Michael, right here and right now. He released his hold on the boy and stepped in front of him. "Michael," he said his name without inflection, "Look at me."

Unwillingly, Michael tore his eyes away from Keifer and stared at Jason, his jaw clenched and his eyes sullen but still he obeyed. His respect for Jason was a tattered entity, no longer tinged with awe but it held for the time being and Jason relied upon it.

"If you go after him again, I'll cold cock you myself. Are we clear?"

Again, somehow he managed to keep the panic he felt under control. Jason was awash in overwhelming guilt that he was responsible for altering his bright, beloved boy into this brooding, unfamiliar bully who thought taking what you wanted by force was the only way of the world. Yet, he quenched his fear, keeping it from brimming over, from spilling out of his eyes, coloring his voice and causing his hands to shake. Yet, extraordinarily, none of that showed and instead all Michael saw was Jason, serious and composed, someone who always did what he said without fail.

He nodded his head, his fists clenched as he resisted the restriction, "Yeah," his voice was rough with anger.

"I'm reporting him," it was Keifer, the cause of it all yet momentarily forgotten. Jason turned and sent him an ice cold glance of appraisal as he tilted his head and considered the boy.

He stalked toward him, all leonine grace and threat, Keifer stepped back in an inadvertent move of self preservation. "No, you won't." Jason was absolute, "I think you might have forgotten who Kristina is or more to the point who her parents are. Alexis is the District Attorney and Sonny, well, he's a man that you really don't want to be angry with you."

"You're threatening me," Keifer swallowed as he attempted to test Jason's statement, to see if he was bluffing. "What he said," he jerked his head toward an incensed but stationary Michael. "It's all a lie but this," he pointed to his nose, "I have proof of what he did, they'll arrest him."

Jason shook his head as he moved closer to Keifer who found when he tried to back up he couldn't, the dry brittle branches of the shrubbery surrounding the clearing blocked his way. "I don't think you understand." He was speaking slowly as though the boy were deaf or stupid or both, "When I go to Alexis and tell her what Michael said, she will get the story out of Kristina and when she does she'll come after you." He reached up and brushed away the snow which had fallen onto Keifer's jacket from the bushes. "It doesn't really matter what Alexis decides to do within the confines of the law though because she won't have the opportunity to act. Once Sonny hears about it you'll disappear and not Alexis, not your family, absolutely no one will be able to find you." Then he smiled casually, the expression full of cold certainty, "Anyway, I doubt Alexis will encourage the police to look very hard either when your parents file a missing person's report."

Keifer's face drained of color except for the dried glaze of blood below his misshapen nose. "You wouldn't dare…" His voice was a hoarse whisper and his eyes were huge with fright.

Jason just looked at him for a minute, the passing seconds echoing in the silence which held all three in its temporary thrall. Finally, he said, his tone measured but unconditional, "As of this minute, you never see or call Kristina again. You take that," he flicked his fingers ominously at the boy's injured nose, "As the least price you can expect to pay for laying hands on someone who weighs seventy pounds less then you and who did nothing wrong except make the mistake of caring about you. Now, get the fuck out of here!"

There was no change in the volume or the tenor of his voice but as Jason spoke his last words of command, Keifer turned away as though released from a binding spell. He moved with a shambling gait toward the break in the leafless growth surrounding the thicket. He felt bruised and battered, embittered and humiliated but he was above all a pragmatist. Keifer was a bully and like most people of that type, it meant he was also a coward and he had recognized the undeniable truth in Jason's eyes. What he threatened would unerringly come to pass unless he stayed away from Kristina and left Michael alone.

"Keifer!" The single word caused him to freeze in mid-stride, he didn't turn around, just stood there waiting apprehensively, his shoulders hunched as though to ward off a blow. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. Just because Kristina has people to look out for her doesn't mean you get a free pass on going after some other less connected girl. If I ever find out that you raised your hand to another woman I will pay you a personal visit that will make this little meeting seem like a picnic. Do you understand me?"

Keifer nodded his head and stood silently for another moment, waiting. When Jason didn't say anything further he ducked through the opening and vanished from sight though they could still hear the crunch of his shoes on the snow.

"That was righteous!" Michael exclaimed, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glittering as he grinned at Jason, his gaze warm with approval for the vanquishing of his enemy. It was clear he once again felt Jason was worthy of his regard.

Jason looked at him, his face grim. "No it wasn't, Michael. It was a mess. That kid could have made all kinds of trouble for you. You don't fix things by going around and pounding on people."

"You do," he retorted.

Jason sighed and rubbed at his neck, "Yeah, I do but that doesn't make me right either. Lots of people, the majority of them go through life without using their fists or guns to settle conflicts. It's our fault-Sonny's and mine-that you were raised to think that was the normal way to behave when in fact it's not."

"Oh, so it's a case of do as I say, not as I do." Michael sneered at him.

Jason nodded and gave a little humorless laugh. "Up until today you'd be exactly right saying that is how it is but things have changed and I'm hoping it's more a case of do as I do now and not as I used to do."

"Why? What's so special about today?" Michael was puzzled, he didn't like the sound of what he was hearing.

"I've quit the organization," Jason said simply, "I'm going to try and join McCall and Jackal and work as a Private Investigator from now on out."

"You working with Sam and Spinelli?" Michael was incredulous. "That's just wrong. You'll be bored out of your skull in a week."

"No, Michael, I won't be." He hoped it was true, he thought it might be. "Actually for the first time in as long as I can remember I feel totally good about a decision, about the direction in which I am taking my life. I feel…" he hesitated as he searched for the perfect word, "Free."

"Well," Michael said deprecatingly, trying to hide his dismay at Jason's sudden change of heart, "Hope that works out for you. Me, I'm sticking with my Dad's line of work."

Jason shook his head adamantly, "No, you're not, Michael."

Michael looked away for a moment and then turning back to Jason locked stares with him and said defiantly, "Says who? You-Port Charles' newest dick?" The word hung on the chilly air, intentionally crude and insulting."

Jason didn't react as he replied calmly, "Sonny, Carly, me-we all are in agreement, Michael. You aren't going to be allowed to throw your life away on violence and poor choices."

Michael laughed, it was a harsh sound, devoid of humor, "That's rich coming from someone who is always preaching that everyone needs to make their own decisions and choices in life. Anyway, I'm eighteen in a few days then none of you will have a thing to say about what I want to do."

"It's true, we can't physically stop you if you are stupid enough to keep following such a destructive pathway. Still, I'd like to think that you would take your mother's feelings into consideration and that you might think about what kind of example you'd be setting for Morgan, Kristina, Molly and Josslyn." Jason paused, his eyes shadowed with worry and fear as he thought about what else he might say to sway Michael from his immature judgment, his false perception of Sonny and Jason's lives. He knew this conversation was more than likely futile, much too little coming much too late. Yet, he had to try, he would keep trying until he succeeded or he was dead. "Understand this though, Michael, you're only an arrogant boy trying to break into a very dangerous world full of ruthless men who would kill you as much as look at you."

Michael's lips curled up into a feral smile which Jason couldn't bear to see. "They wouldn't dare. I am Sonny Corinthos' son. Anyone who thought about coming after me would be dead."

"You're Sonny's son, Carly's son, my nephew. You have a brother, sisters, cousins, and grandparents, so many people who love you and want a good, fulfilling life for you. Yet, the one thing you absolutely won't be allowed to do is trade on Sonny's name and my reputation anymore. Milo and Max aren't going to run around and intimidate people for you. If you choose to get into fights, try to get alcohol, or go out and buy a gun and get into trouble for it, you'll suffer the consequences of your actions."

"Dad would never stand for it," Michael scoffed though Jason was pleased to see the smallest flicker of doubt cross his face. "He'd never let me spend a night in jail."

"You might be right about that, Michael." Jason actually thought he might be.

Though Sonny had agreed in theory to the tough love approach with Michael Jason possessed strong doubts that he would be able to hold firm whenever such a very probable scenario occurred. He wouldn't be able to stand by and see his first born in the clutches of the law or even worse, injured or beaten by some thug, without retaliating. Jason would force him to do so though. It would rip him apart as well to stand passively by and not fix things or seek vengeance. Still, he would make Sonny abide by their accord because it was the only way to save Michael and that was all that was important. Jason wanted Michael to have the opportunity of an untainted future and he would do anything, no matter how unpalatable, in the present to make that achievement possible.

"I told you so," Michael's egotistical cockiness, his inherited but unearned confidence was back and emitting forcefully from him at full wattage.

It was at times like these that Jason felt vaguely traitorous for not always liking the boy although he always loved him. He reminded him too much of his father-of AJ-which was a painful association of memories and experiences. Not for the first time he pondered the extremely toxic genetic combination that was involved in forming Michael. There was AJ's self-indulgent weakness merged with Carly's stubbornness and her wild streak. Then the effects of both were further exacerbated by the influences of the violent, amoral world in which he had been raised. Really, if you looked at the situation in that light, it wasn't particularly surprising that they were having such problems with Michael's behavior and choices. Maybe they should consider themselves lucky that it hadn't been worse then it could have been, then it still conceivably might be. Just the mere thought of such increased potential havoc sent a shudder of fear through Jason's body.

"Yeah," Jason said mildly, "Sonny might try to help you out but that is where you're out of luck because Carly and I won't let him. We'll block him every way we know how. Don't forget, Michael, he's not your biological father. The Quartermaines, Carly and me-we'll have more influence when it comes to a legal issue, to deciding which way it goes with you. Especially since your father is known to have affiliations with the criminal world of Port Charles, he won't do well in a legal battle where we match him step for step and dollar for dollar. I guarantee you we'll win this one and you'll be sitting on your butt in a jail cell or occupying a hospital bed somewhere and there won't be a finger lifted in retribution on your behalf."

Michael's arrogance collapsed, he deflated before Jason's eyes, shrinking in on himself, looking like a lost and abandoned child years younger than his actual age. Jason sighed, he wished he could have just swept Michael up and taken him home to Carly for them all to share Christmas together. It simply wasn't possible, from this fraught moment forth the only viable option was damage control.

"Why would you do that?" The question was half pleading, half whining as Michael stared disbelievingly at Jason, his injured feelings on full display. "Do you hate me or something?"

Something inside Jason snapped and he crossed the few feet of snow filled distance between them in an instant. Reaching out he wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him close in a hug the likes of which they hadn't shared since Michael was years younger. Michael didn't respond for a moment, his body stiff and unyielding and then he let go and leaned into the embrace his arms coming up and wrapping around Jason's back.

"I could never hate you, Michael, never," Jason's eyes were glazed with unshed tears as he stared unseeingly into the distance. "A lot of this is our fault. We let you get away with things, overindulged you sometimes and let you experience things no child should at other times. You were raised in a world with the wrong rules and somehow we expected that you would figure that out on your own. We were totally mistaken in most of our choices concerning you and we all owe you an apology. We didn't intentionally do any of it but I think in some ways that makes it worse. We had lots of opportunities to correct you, to rein you in but we didn't. Then when you shot Kate," He could feel shivers coursing through Michael's body as he mentioned the watershed event of violence. Jason tightened his grip on the boy attempting to reassure him with physical closeness. "That was the point when we should have told the truth, made you accept the blame for what you did, even though it was an accident. That was the point we should have seen where things needed to be fixed before they went too far, before we lost you. You've been allowed to grow up in a world where breaking the law is ignored but worse then that so is hurting and killing people. It's not right, Michael-attacking Keifer, killing Claudia-those are serious acts and we should have made sure you understood that not to punish you but to teach you, to save you. You don't want the life your father and I have lived. I promise you that you don't. It's littered with dead bodies and lost chances and loneliness and regret…most of all regret." Jason murmured that last more to himself then to his nephew, his cascade of words finished.

They stood entwined together while the post-solstice sun steadily marked its downward decline in the winter sky. "Jason?" The voice was muffled against his chest, "I am scared you and Dad won't be proud of me, that I need to measure up."

Jason pushed him back, looking down into reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks. "We'll always be proud of you, Michael. You're have such an amazing spirit, it was obvious even when you were a baby. You love so freely and so strongly. You're smart and caring. You just need to use those abilities in a good way, a positive way. Let your Dad, your Mom and me, let us be happy that we didn't screw everything up that something good managed to come out of all the bad times and the dark times. You're our hope." Jason knew it was a lot to put on such young shoulders but it was the unvarnished truth and he needed to take advantage of the chink in Michael's defensive armor.

Michael nodded and bent his head as though he were embarrassed to meet his uncle's penetrating gaze. "I'll think about it…" he said haltingly unable to make a more concrete assurance at the moment.

"That's good enough for now," Jason gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He changed the subject in an effort to diffuse the intensity of the situation. "I'm on my way to visit your mom. Spinelli and I are throwing a Christmas party at Kelly's in a couple of hours. You and your family are all invited. Do you want to come with me when I go talk to her?"

"A Christmas party! Wow, you are changing," there was a vertical crease between Michael's eyes as he looked at Jason appraisingly, attempting to read his thoughts and discern what was different about him. It was a wasted effort, his uncle's face was perpetually inscrutable to him but his words and actions were always crystal clear and ultimately that was all that mattered. "Ummh, I think I'll take a walk, clear my head, think about some stuff. I'll see you at Kelly's later though, okay?"

Jason stepped back, gifting them both with a more comfortable personal space. "All right, I'll see you there. Merry Christmas, Michael."

He stayed behind watching the boy leave, his pace slow and deliberate as he placed his feet carefully in the snow. Jason fervently hoped that their discussion, fight whatever it had been was the beginning of getting Michael back on track to some type of normalcy. He didn't exactly know what that was but he sure as hell recognized that it in no way shape or form involved an association with the mob.

"Jason!" Carly was staring at him in amazement. "What are you doing here?"

Jason grinned at her, "What a way to greet someone, Carly. Can I come in?

Carly realized she was blocking the door and while still not sure as to why he was here, she stepped back and let him in. "It's just you usually aren't anywhere to be found on Christmas. Honestly, I didn't expect to see you from last night until sometime after New Year's."

"Yeah," Jason couldn't fault her startled response. After all, she was entirely correct about his habits. "The best way I can describe it is that I had a change of perspective between yesterday and today and now I guess I don't hide away on Christmas anymore."

He knew he was being enigmatic but he couldn't possibly tell Carly, or anyone else for that matter, what had happened to him. If he couldn't really be certain what he had experienced was anything more than a dream, even with all the physical remnants on his body, it was certain that other people would just think he was crazy or had consumed too much alcohol. So, while Jason was determined to treat the revelations of the night with full seriousness and implement life altering changes as a result of them, he felt no compulsion to share what had occurred with anyone else. It was simply enough that he was convinced about the need for change, everyone else would believe it when it happened.

Carly stared intensely at him for a moment as though she could see into his heart, his mind, perhaps his very soul and Jason wasn't entirely sure she couldn't. Then she smiled at him, her face glowing with happiness. "Well, why ever it happened I am glad you're going to celebrate Christmas with us. Come see your goddaughter," she urged him pulling him over to the bassinet by the couch.

Carly carefully lifted Josslyn up and handed her to Jason. He held her in his veteran arms, cradling her lovingly while she stared up at him from wide blue eyes filled with her mother's inquisitiveness. "Hey, Josslyn," he whispered, "Merry Christmas."

"Doesn't she look adorable," Carly crooned, gazing down at her daughter, "How do you like her special Christmas outfit?" She prompted Jason, wrinkling her nose at him.

He looked askance at the red and green striped footsie the baby was wearing which was topped off with a red and green cap complete with a red pom pom. "She looks like a cross between a candy cane and an elf," he replied not mincing his words.

Carly punched him in the arm and glowered at him. "She's wearing festive seasonal attire," she told him firmly just as Jax and Morgan descended the stairs together.

"Jason! Merry Christmas!" Morgan ran over to him and wrapping his arms around his waist hugged him fiercely.

Jason handed Josslyn back to her mother and returned Morgan's embrace. "Merry Christmas, Morgan." He replied, pleased to see the sweet tempered boy.

"Mom didn't tell us you were going to come over today," he said looking up at his godfather, his eyes shining with delight.

"That's because Mom didn't know," Carly gave Jason a pointed glance as she returned Josslyn to the bassinet.

"Merry Christmas, Jason," Jax was standing by Carly, his hand around her waist and a pleasant expression on his face. "Are you eating with us today?" He inquired politely.

Jason had to give the Australian credit for good manners. Jax didn't like Jason much and the feeling was mutual but for the sake of Carly and the children they observed a civil détente. Over time, he had even come to grudgingly admit that Jax was a decent stepfather to both Michael and Morgan.

He shook his head, "Actually," he began, "I'm here to ask you to eat with us-with Spinelli and me-and a lot of other people. We're hosting a Christmas party at Kelly's in a few hours and I really hope you can join us."

"Get out of here!" Morgan was grinning from ear to ear, "That is so cool, you're throwing a Christmas party, wow! We can go can't we, Mom?" Morgan turned on his best imitation of a beseeching puppy dog and looked toward his mother who just laughed at him.

"Of course we're going! I wouldn't miss this for the world. Jason Morgan putting on a party without being under duress, it's an historic occasion." Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she teased her oldest friend.

He glared at her in mock outrage as he suddenly realized that both Jax and Morgan were wearing striped green and red sweaters which coordinated with Josslyn's baby outfit. "Where's yours?" He retorted pointing at her husband and son who were puzzled by his comment. They stood by in mutual incomprehension as the verbal battle waged between Jason and Carly. "Aren't you going to make it a matching set, you and Michael…?" The name slipped from his lips unawares and he immediately regretted it as Carly's smile faded to be replaced by worry lines indented across her brow.

"Michael's out somewhere," she said uncertainly, moving closer to Jax as he tightened his hold on her and looked angrily at Jason, upset that he had distressed Carly.

"I saw him in the park, on my way here." Jason said softly. "He's okay."

"He really is?" Carly searched his face earnestly, making sure he wasn't holding anything back, "Because every time he's out of my sight these days, I worry until he comes back. I worry he won't come back." It was a sign of how stressed she was that Carly would utter such a sentiment in front of Morgan.

"We actually talked about…stuff. He didn't want to hear it at first but after a while he listened. I told him that we-all of us," he glanced at Jax who tilted his head slightly to signify his tacit agreement, "Were going to be together on this and that he couldn't expect to get a pass on poor behavior and a bad attitude anymore. I realize that it'll take a lot more than one conversation to get him back on track but for the first time today I really felt like it's going to be all right, Carly." Jason's voice reflected his inner conviction.

Carly smiled at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, "It's a Christmas miracle," she murmured.

Morgan looked back and forth between his mother and Jax and Jason. He was an intuitive child and had felt the undercurrents of unease and anger which had been floating through the house for months. He didn't understand exactly what had changed today but his slight shoulders felt suddenly lighter as a burden he didn't even know he was carrying was lifted from them.

"Will Michael be at the party?" He asked the question timidly because he felt as though his family's future happiness might rest on Jason's answer.

Jason looked down at him, his eyes a clear brilliant blue, reaching over he ruffled the boy's hair, "He said he would come, Morgan. Your Dad will be there and hopefully Alexis and the girls and well, Spinelli is out inviting all sorts of people right now."

"What about Sam?" Carly asked him, she was fully accepting of their relationship this time around. It was clear to her that the tiny brunette loved him and Jason her. It had taken years but Carly finally had managed to put Jason's desires and needs over her destructive jealously.

"A harbor pilot friend called her a couple of days ago. He had to be in the hospital over the holidays so Sam is down in New York covering his shifts. She'll be back in time to celebrate New Year's." His eyes lit up at the thought and Carly only felt the mildest pang of discontent at the sight.

"That's good," she was surprised to find she actually meant the words, "You must miss her."

"I do." He said simply. "Carly, would you happen to have a blank Christmas card and a pen?"

She arched an eyebrow at his request but didn't ask any questions. She just handed over the required materials and gave him some privacy as he sat on the couch writing in the card. Meanwhile, she and Jax cooed over their daughter who regarded them gravely as she lay placidly on her back.

"See you at Kelly's," Jason was standing up from the couch and heading purposefully toward the door. His errands were completed and he wanted to get to the diner in order to help Mike and Spinelli with the party preparations. He was just turning onto the sidewalk in front of Carly's house when his cell phone rang. He checked the screen to identify the caller, it was Sam.

"Merry Christmas," he greeted her. Speaking to Sam was the final perfect touch of contentment on a special day filled with intentional acts of connection with all the people he cared about.

Everything was pretty much under control at Kelly's when he got there. Dominic had been recruited to help Mike in the kitchen and in trade for his services had been issued a de facto invitation to the party. Spinelli had rounded up Maxie and Lulu to help decorate the diner. The visibly antithetical states of the two couples' relationships were all too painfully obvious to Jason's observant eye upon entering the restaurant.

Dominic kept popping out of the kitchen, reminding Jason of a cuckoo bird in a clock, as he delivered food or deposited drinks on the diner counter which was set up to serve people buffet style. Each time he came out he would catch Lulu's eye and smile at her or make some silly comment that would cause her to giggle and drop something.

On the other hand, Spinelli and Maxie were working in icy silence. They would talk to Lulu but not to each other. If there was a tool or a decoration which needed to be exchanged it was done with immense politeness and a studious avoidance of even the slightest inadvertent contact. Maxie looked miserable as she gazed imploringly at Spinelli's stiff back while she aimlessly placed centerpieces on the diner's tables. He diligently ignored her while attempting to appear fully engrossed in his self-assigned task as he hammered nails and strung garlands and lights throughout the room.

Jason hated seeing the melancholy expression imprinted on Spinelli's face. He glared at the back of Maxie's head wishing Spinelli in service to his ever boundless forgiveness and fair play hadn't been compelled to ask her to the party. He would have preferred not to see her right now, maybe not for a long time and he knew instinctively that it would have been better for Spinelli as well. He missed his roommate's irrepressible humor and good cheer. Jason thought nostalgically of all the times when Spinelli greeted him with high spirit. Then he winced remembering how he always rebuffed his simple overtures with some gruff order to get to work or to leave him alone because he was busy.

So funny, he mused, as he considered the difference between these two young men for whose sakes he would give anything in order to save them from their potentially bleak futures. Michael, so privileged and so loved was full of anger and rage against the world. He felt misused and struck out in fury and frustration as though it were his birthright which in some ways Jason thought it rather was.

Then there was Spinelli who expected nothing for himself, who thought himself undeserving of any care, any thought or concern. Yet, he was a beacon of goodness and his conscience a guide which Jason unconsciously had grown to rely upon. He gave everything and held nothing back. Jason stared intently at Spinelli as he worked, lost in his chore. The thought slowly dawned upon Jason that perhaps, unbeknownst to himself, someone had finally superseded Michael's place in his affections. This boy standing on a teetering ladder doing his utmost to accomplish the job Jason charged him with, as he always did, was his salvation. Spinelli, he realized in a blinding flash of revelation, was one of the few people who did anything for Jason and expected absolutely nothing in return. How could he have been so blind, so careless with this precious person?

He was across the diner in a flash, both hands wrapped around the ladder, "Don't fall," he called up to him, his voice thick with unexpressed emotion.

"Stone Cold?" Spinelli looked down at him vaguely startled at his proximity, "The Jackal was unaware of your arrival. Is everything all right?" He asked, his glance sharpening and becoming more penetrating as he saw or simply sensed Jason's distress.

Jason nodded reassuringly. He was entirely aware that Spinelli would never comprehend the reason for his sudden flash of panic, his eye-opening contemplation of their relationship and most importantly what it was he could no longer deny that he required Spinelli in his life. Jason had always tried to avoid needing anyone but somehow people kept creeping under his radar regardless of his intentions-Emily, Carly, Sonny, Michael, Alan, Monica, Sam…the list seemed endless. Yet, out of them all, it was this boy, this riddle of a person who was the one to teach him through his own actions that caring, freely showing feelings, and risking everything for love was the only true way to live life to its fullest extent.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his voice regaining its usual steadiness. "You almost done up there?" He tried to discreetly urge him down off the ladder and onto to solid ground so Jason's heart could stop thumping so erratically.

"Indeed," Spinelli stretched up one final time, stepping beyond the safe recommended height of the ladder which swayed ominously as Jason reflexively tightened his grip on it. "All done," he announced brightly as he rapidly clambered down entirely unaware of Jason's resurgent alarm.

Jason grabbed the ladder and folding the metal stability strips, closed it with a resounding finality. "Come with me while I put this out back in the alley." He curtly instructed his roommate.

"Stone Cold, what are you doing with Mr. Sirs esteemed father's ladder?" Spinelli's voice was a high pitched yelp of alarm as he watched his mentor casually shove it into one of the dumpsters lining the alley walls.

"It's a piece of crap," Jason said unrepentantly. "You could have broken your neck on it. I'll get him a new one, a sturdier one. By the way," he turned toward the hacker, his face stern, "Don't ever let me catch you going up that high on a ladder again. You ought to know better, Spinelli!" He scolded him with all the familiar fear of a parent for a child who has just managed to escape harm unscathed.

Spinelli lowered his head, his face reddening under the sting of Jason's lecture. "The Jackal was simply caught up in his task, Stone Cold. He was unaware of any danger."

"Yeah, well start being aware, Spinelli, I don't want you ending up in a full body cast. Here, this is for you." Abruptly he pulled the Christmas card Carly had given him out of his jacket pocket.

Spinelli took the unmarked envelope in his hands, an unsettled look on his face, "What is it, Stone Cold?" He asked trying to imagine what could possibly be inside it.

"Your Christmas present," he replied obliquely, "Open it."

"The Jackal didn't expect…" he was muttering as he slipped a finger under the flap and pulled out the card. Opening he read it and after briefly pausing reread it. "Jason, it's…I never…are you sure?" His face was pale and serious, his green eyes glowing as he stared at his friend.

"Yeah," Jason said squarely meeting his look, "I want to do it. I've already traveled to those countries and there might be some spots I could show you. Yet, I know for a fact that there are probably all kinds of places I never went which you'll want to visit." He gave him a crooked half smile, "Educate me," he challenged him.

His reward was found a hundredfold within the transcendent smile that blazed across the boy's face, "Stone Cold! This is my fondest wish come true, to travel to Europe, to all her revered places of antiquity, sacred shrines to science and literature and hallowed halls of history. Thank you, thank you!"

Spinelli dashed forward, his enthusiasm unbounded and Jason, caught off balance, was pushed back against the alley wall under the impact of his assault. A sudden flash of the night before crossed his mind, Spinelli little more than a bundle of rags abandoned and dead lying in another alley, discarded like Mike's ladder, inanimate trash, mourned by no one. Closing his eyes tightly, he banished the awful vision, returning it to a future that would never be for he would make certain of it. For the first time ever in their acquaintance, he relished the opportunity to have physical contact between them. Unashamed of the tears glinting in his eyes, Jason wrapped his arms around the living embodiment of hope he held reverently in his arms. He hugged him back, fiercely grateful beyond words for this second chance which it appeared they each had been miraculously granted.

It was Spinelli who pushed away from Jason and he looked up at him, his hair tousled and his eyes gleaming with joy. "Do you know what the best part about your gift is?"

"No, what?" Jason prompted him, constantly amazed at how simple it was to make Spinelli happy.

"It is that we will be undertaking this marvelous journey of exploration and discovery together, Stone Cold. Oh, I can hardly wait for April…" He vibrated with impatience at the thought of the delay now that the concept of the trip was firmly implanted in his mind.

Jason laughed, "We should go when the weather is decent but not during the height of the tourist season. Beside, you can take the time to plan a precise itinerary so that we can use the two months to our full advantage."

"You will miss Fair Samantha for a trip of such extended duration. Perhaps she could rendezvous with us at some juncture." Spinelli offered magnanimously.

"Maybe so, Spinelli but I want it to be clear, this is our trip-yours and mine. So, we'll see about inviting Sam but the important thing is that you get to do whatever you want."

Spinelli looked overwhelmed at the concept of being totally indulged. Yet, before he could say anything further, Mike poked his head around the diner's back door, "Hey, fellas, people are starting to arrive."

The party was in full swing. Even though the invitations had all been last minute, almost everyone who was asked came. Carly and her family showed up, matching sweaters and all. Alexis arrived with her two girls and Mac in attendance. Maxie ran to her dad and he enfolded her in his arms glowering at a hapless Spinelli, forever unable to alter his almost father-in-law's ill opinion of him. Diane and Max showed up together and Jason almost spit out his eggnog as he caught sight of the reindeer antlers they were each wearing.

Robin came up to give him a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek, "Merry Christmas, Jason! It's about time you did something like this," she said putting her seal of approval on the party while Patrick stood nearby holding a babbling Emma.

Sonny arrived with Olivia who looked awkward at being at this gathering with so many people whom she only knew peripherally. She stayed close by Sonny's side as he moved between his two families. Josslyn helped her out by just being a baby that she could make a fuss over and win smiles from both Jax and Carly in the bargain as she said their daughter was beautiful which they both knew but it was always nice to hear it affirmed again and again.

Then Johnny entered the diner, he was clearly mildly inebriated as he swaggered into the crowded room. Olivia's hard won sang froid quickly evaporated as he proceeded to flirt audaciously with Maxie who responded to his overtures with a kind of desperate gaiety. They staked a proprietary claim to the mistletoe over by the kitchen as Maxie's shrieks of laughter grated on Jason's nerves. He watched as Olivia tried her best to keep her gaze from them but her eyes seemingly of their own volition kept sliding in the direction pf the amorous pair. Every time she looked over it was to find Johnny staring boldly at her. His eyes met hers with a hot defiance as he kissed his way up Maxie's neck, across her cheek and ultimately ended pressing his lips to hers in a lingering and intimate kiss which brought neither of them any pleasure.

Finally, dreading what he might see, he searched for the room for Spinelli. Jason needed to know how he was taking Maxie's and Johnny's blatant attempt at arousing jealousy in their respective erstwhile partners. It appeared they were intent on dealing out a public punishment to Spinelli and Olivia for daring to end their relationships without the consent of their lovers. Spinelli was pretending not to care, not to see as he chatted with Diane and Max. Still, Jason was an expert at reading his roommate's body language and it was clear to him how uncomfortable and wretchedly despondent the hacker felt in the face of such an inappropriate display. Jason's fingers itched to punch Johnny and follow through by picking Maxie up bodily and placing her outside the diner in the snow to cool down her overheated hormones. They had no right to ruin this day for Spinelli or even Olivia. It was Christmas, God damn it!

Molly appeared by Spinelli's side asking him to accompany her to the jukebox across the room and pick out some Christmas music for the party. He smiled down at the little girl as she grabbed his hand and tugged at him, urging him to come with her. Together they went over to the jukebox and soon Ella Fitzgerald singing 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' spilled out into the room adding to the hum of chatter and laughter.

Maxie disentangled herself from Johnny's grasp as soon as she realized that Spinelli was truly ignoring her. Jason was surprised to find he actually had some sympathy for both of them as he saw matching expressions of forlorn loneliness cross their faces at their failed attempt to reignite some spark of passion in either Olivia or Spinelli.

The Quartermaine family and Alice breezed in raising the collective noise level of the gathering several decibels. Jason moved forward to greet Monica who hugged him and gave him a quick kiss. "Thank you so much for thinking of us and including us today, Jason." She said softly, her eyes sparkling with unexpressed emotion.

"You're my family," he said gravely, "I know I don't always do a good job of showing I care but I do. I'm glad you're here."

"Hmmph," was Edward's only comment as he stood next to Monica but his face momentarily softened as he caught sight of her expression of delight. "C'mon my dear," he said patting her on the shoulder, "I want to take full advantage of the fact we for once shan't be eating pizza for our holiday meal. Let's go see what type of spread these hooligans have managed to prepare."

Ethan had accompanied Tracy and Luke and he instantly sought out Dante and Lulu who were now under the mistletoe having supplanted a disinterested Johnny and Maxie. The two tentative lovers teased each other, feinting forward and stepping back, each refusing to be the first one to initiate a kiss.

"Ugh!" It was a shout of disgust emanating from Tracie. "It's only eggnog!" She complained looking down at the creamy drink contained within the plastic cup in her hand.

"It's a Christmas tradition, Miss. Tracy," Alice placidly chastised her for making a scene in public, her voice full of long suffering restraint.

"I know that!" Tracy retorted petulantly, "Eggnog's great when it's made right, with an additional little something added to give it a kick. This…this though is just milk, eggs, and nutmeg," She looked at the cup she was holding and shuddering in distaste, placed it back down in the counter.

"That's just not right!" Luke was taking up her cause and making it his own, "Jason," he appealed to his host, "Can't you do something about this travesty? It's the holidays, they were meant for booze."

Jason shrugged unapologetically. "Afraid not Luke, Kelly's doesn't have a liquor license and besides there are a lot of kids here today." He wasn't sorry in the least. After last night, he was keeping alcohol and Spinelli as separate from one another as he could manage.

The door opened again and Jason watched Carly look over, anticipation and worry mingled on her face as she hoped to see her eldest child. Nicholas and Spencer entered instead and she valiantly hid her disappointment as she went over to greet them. Molly and Morgan claimed the little boy and brought him over to the corner of the diner where Spinelli had hung a Christmas piñata in the shape of a reindeer. All of the children and most of the adults had in their turn worn the obligatory blindfold and taken a swing at the paper mache figure. After so many attempts no one had managed to break it open. Yet, this time, after being spun around several times by his cousins, Spencer gave it a single lucky whack and a cascade of toys and candies spilled onto the floor.

Everyone cheered for him and he took off his blindfold and gave a small gratified smile to the watching crowd. Then he proceeded to gather up the contents of the burst piñata in an empty bowl his grandfather procured for him. With scrupulous politeness, he wandered the room with the bowl proffering the treats to the other guests and forbearing from taking a piece of candy for himself until he made sure that he had given a chance to everyone else. Nicholas stood by Alexis watching Spencer's progress, his face was smooth and unreadable but his eyes gleamed with a quiet pride in his well mannered son.

"Wow, Nicholas, I think I am going to start sending my kids over to Wyndermere for etiquette lessons," Carly said in an awed voice.

"The sooner the better," Alexis murmured sotto voce but Carly had the ears of a lynx and stalked toward her, ready to do battle.

"Are you saying my kids have bad manners?" She hissed at Alexis, her eyes blazing.

"Well, I don't know if bad is the right word exactly," Alexis drawled not intimidated in the least by Carly's show of temper.

"At least I let my kids be kids," Carly rejoined, satisfied as Alexis' eyes widened and her lips narrowed in response to her taunt.

Jason, Jax and Mac were all moving toward the two women, intent on defusing the situation and separating the combatants when a sharp, assured voice cut through the air, "Ladies, ladies, it's neither the time nor the place." Diane Miller sauntered toward them, somehow managing an insouciant air of reason and competence even with the absurd reindeer antlers swaying on her head. "It's Christmas, a time for family and friends and wonderful, wonderful shoes." She looked down with deep satisfaction at the cerise pumps Max had given her that very morning, "Surely, you two can save the bickering and backstabbing for the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year and keep an inviolate truce for this single day?" She waited patiently, while both Carly and Alexis realized that everyone in the room, including their own children, were staring at them, awaiting their response.

Alex was the first to speak. She waggled her hand in a gesture of submission toward Diane and said sheepishly, "She's right, we can fight tomorrow and the day after and…well, Merry Christmas, Carly."

Carly grinned at her, her eyes full of mischief, "Merry Christmas, Alexis, but don't expect me to hug you!"

Alexis's mouth made an instinctive moue of distaste, "Perish the thought!"

The door opened again and this time it was finally Michael. He walked into the room saying excitedly, "It's snowing out!" He brushed the tell tale icy flakes off his coat, his burnished hair blazing in the lights of the diner.

"Michael!" Carly squeaked her happiness as she ran to greet him.

Jason caught Sonny's eye as they silently telegraphed their mutual relief at his arrival. Kristina followed Carly, wanting to be the second in-line to hug her brother. Michael was rapidly surrounded by his family.

Jason was content as he stood off to the side happy in the moment, glad that his two charges, his two boys were safe and secure at least for tonight. He could relax his vigilance, his chosen burden and pick it up once more on the morrow. For now he simply wanted to enjoy this room full of friends and family, the people who mattered to him and he to them. It had been a long time, maybe it had never occurred in his life as Jason Morgan, since he had permitted himself to simply bask in the basic human sensation of caring, of love and he intended to make the most of the sensation.

"If I may?" The voice coming from behind Jason was low pitched and tentative. Still, somehow it penetrated the consciousness of the talkative crowd and one by one they fell silent. Finally everyone was turned toward the slight form standing upon a diner chair, a requisite bottle of orange soda clutched in one hand. Spinelli blushed at being the cynosure of all eyes even though he had intentionally sought the effect. "Um…the Jackal bows to no one in his admiration of all things Stone Cold." As was always the case, once he began the words flowed seamlessly from his lips. "Yet, I think that it is the imperfections we possess which make us both human and worthy of affection as we consistently strive to always be better than we can ever truly hope to be. It is the complete elusiveness of perfection which makes it an aspiration so worthy of our pursuit. Therefore, it would apparently fall to me, Stone Cold's humble acolyte, to use that one skill which he lacks, the trait of verbosity, to welcome you all this evening. We are blessed to be inside on such a cold and blustery night-warm and well fed-as we revel in the simple companionship of one another."

Spinelli paused and Edward hoisted his cup of eggnog saying, "Hear, hear!" Others joined in his toast, lifting their glasses, cups and bottles containing a wide variety of beverages.

Spinelli was no longer shy before the crowd though he took another moment, looking down at the floor as though seeking inspiration in its worn surface, before raising his head and once more addressing the assemblage. "This day is special and it matters not if you celebrate it with religious fervor in your heart or because it is a tradition or merely because you are attracted to the external trappings of lights, music and gifts. It is the one time in the year when people smile genuinely at one another and the word peace is on everyone's lips. Who amongst us would deny that simple virtue to our brethren here and around the world? It is a time for the putting aside of animosities, when families come together and share their love. It is an all too brief annual moment when the hope for a better world seems an eminently attainable goal. So, I raise my cup to you," Spinelli matched the action to his words as he lifted his bottle of orange soda high into the air causing everyone else to once again follow suit, "Merry Christmas to you all and may God bless us everyone!"

A/N: Reviews are appreciated


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